To Love a Mockingbird
by SweetHarmonee
Summary: The life of a troubled Asshai'i girl growing up in Flea Bottom will change when Petyr Baelish and Joffrey Baratheon enter her world. [Rated M for language, graphic sexual situations, and explicit violence] [Book-verse & Show-verse] [Mostly Canon, but it does stray and some OOC moments] [I do not own anything except OC's] [OCXJoffrey] [OCXPetyr]
1. Chapter 1

Flea Bottom was vast and intricate, the narrow streets almost maze-like with dilapidated buildings. From all the stories Blade had heard about King's Landing, she had pictured it as a welcoming place. The truth was that she had never felt more alien; from another time, from another place altogether - far east of Assahi.

When she had first caught the eye of a young blonde sellsword in Braavos, she was only eleven years old and begging on the streets with her disheveled black hair and teary blue eyes. His name was Vaan and he never inquired about her past; he knew not if she had family, where she had come from, or what had happened to bring her to such a dismal state. And she would never volunteer those tidbits to him. Despite this, he had insisted that Blade would come with him home to Westeros, to build something that resembled a decent life. He wasn't exactly sure what he would do in Westeros, but he knew there was always work for a man with a sword.

From all the stories of wealth and magnificence Vaan had shared with her on their journey across the sea, she had assumed that she would simply arrive in King's Landing and make herself at home. Now that she had arrived, the air was blisteringly warm and she found herself being led through crowded alleys, stumbling on uneven ground, recognizing nothing and no one.

Vaan held tight to Blade's thin arm, blundering forward into the Summer haze, the cobblestone beneath their feet sticky with debris and muck. The smell of cheap wine and slowly dissolving dung clung to the air.

He wondered why he had brought this little girl here. Why had he felt compelled to rescue her? There were plenty of starving kids on the street, in many cities around the world. He had felt no pity or compassion for them before. He would never come to know the answer.

But there he stood, in the middle of Flea Bottom, where prosperity and hope were as an exotic dream as distant as magic, dragons, White Walkers, or the Shadow Lands. In this section of King's Landing, cats are thin and hollow-eyed for want of food, the hearths are cold, windows are dusty and cracked, and homes are held together by rotting wood.

Blade was not inclined to admire the view and neither was Vaan. His immediate concern was how getting out of the heat and finding a place to rest for a few days. Rescuing them from the sun, Vaan pulled Blade through the back door of a familiar house, leading her through a claustrophobic corridor that smelled of soiled linen and unwashed hair.

"Watch your step on these stairs; some of them are rotten." He smiled down at her with his grey eyes, in an attempt to be reassuring. "My sister, Carol, should be up here. She's a sweet girl, for a whore. You'll like her."

And indeed, Carol was a working woman with a daughter and two sons. It had been five years since her husband had passed away and she'd been making her own way in the world. She was cold and hard-working, willing to do anything necessary to keep food on the table and a roof over her children's heads. Despite her hard work or her dreams of a better life, Carol would work, live and certainly die in Flea Bottom.

When Vaan entered Carol's room, two voices began yelling and Blade stood outside the door listening to the commotion. After a few minutes, the door swung open to reveal a tall woman with golden hair. Years ago, many would have considered her attractive, but her difficult times now reflected in her appearance. She gestured for Vaan to pull Blade into the room.

"Mother's mercy, Vaan.. what a pretty kid she is! The boys will be happy. " Carol voice was slurred with drink and her accent was so different from those Blade had heard in Essos, that she had a hard time understanding her . "Now, now, little girl. No reason to be scared. How old are you?"

"I... uh..." Blade stuttered nervously. "Eleven."

"Eleven years old, nearly a woman," Carol repeated to herself and jokingly jabbed her elbow into her brother's side. "What you think of her, Vaan?"

Vaan shuffled uncomfortably, "That's not why I brought her here."

"Rather pretty though, dontcha think?"

He replied with a shrug. "Just don't, Carol."

"Anyways, little girl," Carol bent down to be at eye-level with Blade. "If you're not going to be workin' with me, you're gonna have to earn your keep somehow. So, you'll work very hard 'round this ole' shanty. You'll do as your told and don't get into no trouble. You behave or I'll let my boys give you a nasty beating. And maybe in a few months, Uncle Vaan will letcha come work with your Auntie Carol."


	2. Chapter 2

For two years now, I had been condemned to the drudgery and humiliation of being Carol's kitchen wench, maid and nanny. With Vaan working for a lord near the Street of Silk, I rarely saw him as I grew into Carol's servant. I tended to her young daughters, evaded advances from her sons, emptied the waste buckets, cooked all the meals, carried clean water from the well, washed her dirty rags from her nightly visits with strange men, and took beatings for her children when they misbehaved.

I sat on the dirty cobblestone of the Street of Looms for quite some time, dwelling on my thoughts. I suppose my circumstances could have been much worse. Still, I felt my life stretching out before me like a long path leading nowhere. I certainly didn't desire to be a whore like Carol, but I couldn't picture myself doing this until the end of my days.

In the square, I watched as young girls my age chatted with one another while they shopped. They may have only been ideally browsing the various storefronts, but to me they were going from one important task to another with lives filled with purpose. Surely, they had enough coin to even consider purchasing gowns and shoes and hair barrettes - things I could never even dream of owning in my lifetime. They debated on which hue of green would best match their eyes, while I on the other hand would never know anything more glamorous than scrubbing seed out of Carol's cottons.

When the sun began to set and the square began to empty, I stood worrying that perhaps Mikael, Carol's eldest son, would strike me for being out so late again. The thought brought on so much fear, I couldn't stand still any longer. I walked down the Street of Looms and turned towards Cobbler Square. I kept my head low and my steps fast as I passed by The Great Sept of Baelor. Crowds streamed up the stairs and into the sept. Among the rags of the low-born commoners, several high-born lords and ladies stood out in their brilliant colored cloths and armed knights. One young lady, about my age, stood out with hair the coloring of autumn leaves and her silk dress intricately designed. I felt that tinge of jealousy again; life was filled with excitement and beauty, but it all just passes me by.

I moved my gaze from the crowds to stare up at the giant banners depicting The Seven. I had known nothing of The Seven growing up in Assahi, but I still prayed; for The Father to judge me fairly, for The Mother to have mercy on my soul, for The Warrior to grant me the strength to endure, for The Maiden to keep my virtue safe from Mikael for as long as possible, for The Smith to keep a roof over my head, for The Crone to guide me to a better life and for The Stranger to not come for my soul anytime soon.

It seemed that no matter where I went, the same message followed me everywhere; I was abandoned, I was nothing, I would never be anything more than this. I continued to look up and pray, determined to shut out my shame and self-pity. Soon, I felt the tears welling up in my eyes.

"My lady, surely it's too lovely an evening to be so sad."

A man's whisper reached past my silent cries and flowed soothingly to my ears. Ordinarily, a lord of a noble house wouldn't pay much notice of a girl like me... I was a peasant, a peasant making a fool of herself by crying outside the Great Sept of Baelor. Even if lords had noticed me crying in the streets before, they certainly wouldn't speak to me, unless it was to proposition me into the nearest alleyway. Yet, not only had this man bothered speaking to me, his voice was filled with kindness. He also addressed me in a way that suggested I might be a young lady of noble birth - even though my tattered dress and worn-out sandals revealed I was anything but.

Instead of looking towards the man standing at my side, I looked back up to the banners hanging from the sept and thanked The Seven. For even if just for a moment, they gave me hope that things could be different from what I'd always known - that in my world their could be kindness, fairness, wealth, happiness. And when I turned myself to look at the man who'd spoken to me, I felt my shame slowly creep back into reality.

The man who had addressed me there on the street had a calm face, but with alarmingly sharp features. And what was more, he was not only elegantly dressed, but slender, which was uncommon for most lords. His green eyes pierced into mine and it made me feel as if he would continue to stand next to me calmly until I was no longer in tears. He was probably in his thirties, with threads of grey running through his small pointed beard and the dark hair atop his head. He seemed so sophisticated to me that I blushed and quickly looked away.

A younger man and woman stood behind him, both of them beautiful in silks and jewels. The younger man stepped forward, put his hand on the slender man's shoulder and laughed, "She's just a silly peasant. Give her some coin if you must and let's go."

"Patience is a virtue, my friend." The slender man replied.

The beautiful woman spoke quietly, "Really, Petyr, we're going to be late."

This man before me was so different from the usual nobles, that even though I was still a child with barely any meaningful life experience, I knew that his house couldn't be a very large or important one. A lord from House Lannister or House Baratheon wouldn't have stopped to talk to me. They'd also have knights protecting them when ventured out in the city at night.

"Would you not agree that our evening could be better spent helping this young lady in her time of need?" Petyr asked his female companion and she shook her head in response. "Now, Ros, surely you can understand the woes of this little girl. You two carry on and I'll meet you back at the villa shortly."

And with that, the younger couple went on their way while Petyr remained behind. I could feel him looking at me for a long while, though I did not dare look back him. I wasn't accustomed to socializing with nobility and thought staring back may be impolite. I stood in silence, staring down at the cobblestone beneath my feet.

"Look at me." He told me.

I was still worried about my manners, but I didn't dare disobey him. Confused and scared, I turned towards him and looked up.

"Come closer." He said firmly, but an inviting, practiced smile was at his lips. I stepped forward slowly, closing the distance between us. Standing so near him, I could smell the mint on his breath. Then, he took a handkerchief from his jacket pocket, placed his free hand at my chin to tilt my face up, and wiped the soft fabric against my moist cheeks. This act of kindness was so foreign to me, that it caused the tears to come back. I shook my face from his embrace and turned to look away.

"There, there..." His voice was now tender, "You're a lovely child," He grabbed my face and forced it to his again, but I kept my eyes closed. "And you should not fear looking at me. Someone or something has shown you unjust cruelty."

"This world... my life." My whisper was so quiet, I had thought he might not heard me.

He replied sympathetically. "People like you, like me, we have to use our strength to rise up and take happiness for ourselves. It will never be handed to us."

Petyr - this familiar stranger, this attractive man, this unusual lord. I wanted nothing more than to open my eyes and look into his intense gaze, I thought that would bring me happiness. Finally, when I opened my eyes, I found joy - he gazed at me as if he knew me, as if he understood, as if he could see the real me, as if I were a part of him.

After a moment, he took his hand from my face, reached into his pocket, pulled out several gold coins, wrapped them in his handkerchief and held it out to me. "This won't buy you happiness, but hopefully it will help you for some time."

I took the handkerchief and bowed to thank him. I mumbled many words of gratitude, trying my best to express how grateful I was for his kindness - though I'm sure I had embarrassed myself even further. I watched as he walked away, my chest aching. Though, it was pleasant ache, if such a thing existed. I was so sad to see him go so quickly, but so grateful that it had happened at all. How could I have progressed from dreading my entire existence to falling in love in mere minutes? Perhaps I was just a silly girl.

Yet, now I was a silly girl with hope and purpose. Hope that someone like Petyr would spend time with me. And like he had said, the coin wouldn't buy me happiness, but now I had a stepping-stone towards it. I rushed up the stairs of the sept, up to the donation box near the front door and dropped the coins in. I looked up towards the banners of The Seven and thanked them.

And then I hurried away from the sept, down the Street of Sisters and down a side street towards Flea Bottom. Even here, there were men, women and children rushing towards the sept in there finest clothing - their lives filled with hope and purpose.


	3. Chapter 3

_This is it,_ I told myself. _I will become like Carol._

I'd never imagined myself envying a common prostitute like her. Vaan had not brought me to King's Landing for the purpose of becoming one, but now I understood, the thing I'd never realized; the point wasn't to be a prostitute, but to become something better. To become someone that could be in Petyr's world, despite my social standing. _Not like Carol, better than her._ I thought of the high-class brothels on the Street of Silk; the ones that catered to the Most Devout, knights, nobility, and even rumored Royalty. I imagined the beautiful courtesans with their painted lips, khol-lined eyes, glittering jewels and velvet robes, happily serving aged wine to their patrons. To become a courtesan to the nobility... well, that was hardly a purpose in life, but a stepping-stone on the way to _take my own happiness._

This thought calmed me to a degree; by the time I reached our rotting shanty, I was convinced that by using my appearance and body, I would some day find Petyr again. _But how? How did I begin? Where did I start?_

I slipped through the back door of building as quietly as I could. The ground floor was well-lit, but making my way upstairs in the middle of the night was another matter, and I made several noises as I wandered to the room I shared with Carol's two daughters.

I extended my hand to open the door. At once, my wrist was seized with brutal force.

I quickly whirled and tried to free myself. Beside me in the shadows loomed Mikael. Even the dim moonlight creeping through the broken window in the hallway couldn't hide the appeal of his features- with a muscular jaw, full lips beneath his thin mustache, his brown eyes large and arresting beneath a crown of blonde locks. Yet, many things marred his handsomeness; the savageness in his expression in eyes; his every move, every glance and gesture, was imperious and full of anger. His siblings and other children in the neighborhood whispered about Mikael's tendencies to squabble with boys and girls alike, he would even harm animals. But as a blacksmith's apprentice on Reeking Lane, he was Carol's pride and joy.

Mikael's eyes were heavy-lidded with drink. His shirt was gone; he wore nothing but his trousers. Standing next to me, I could not deny his physical advantage. I was not large in weight or height, and unlike me, he was tall and very powerful at sixteen. His burly hands together could encircle my waist. I thought he could easily snap my neck, should he wish to.

"Blade, out late tonight," He whispered, pulling me close to him. The stress of my wrist increased to the point of considerable pain and I let out a small cry. His words were slurred, his breath foul with ale and bowl o' brown. "I waited all night for you - nay, for years now. I've waited... until now."

I opened my mouth to scream, but before I could utter a sound, he grabbed me with his strong arms, placed a palm against the back of my head and forced my face to his. I struggled and screamed, I cried, but to no use. He continued to kiss me, his lips and tongue pressed to my teeth; the odor of his breath made me gag between cries.

"Stop it, Mikael, please!" A male voice cried out.

Angelo, Carol's youngest son, was my age - thirteen. He was opposite of his brother: golden-curled, sweet faced, good-natured, with an unusual intellect free of guile. He had his mother's pale green eyes. In the corner of the dark hall, he stared at us with fear.

When Mikael let go of my wrist and drew back. With fear and rage, for the first time, with all of my strength, I landed a blow on his cheek. His eyes narrowed at me, with shock and anger; he touched the offended area, then dismissively dropped his hand and laughed. "The time will come. Best 'member that."

"I'll wake up Mom." Angelo's quiet whisper was closer to us now, he stood a few feet behind his elder brother.

"Go, wake 'er." Mikael smiled, then nodded towards me and spoke with surprising pleasantness and ease. "If you do, she'll suffer for it."

"You'll never touch me..." I whispered as I slowly retreated until my back was met with the wall.

"You're just a girl. Just another mouth we can't afford to feed." On Mikael's face, in his voice, was that familiar cruelty. "I'm the man of this house. As long as you live here, you are my property, to do with as a I please."

To prove his point, he moved swiftly towards me, pinning me against the wall as he reached a hand under my dress and took my breast in his rough palm. Immediately, I seized his hand and tried to pull it from my chest. He in turn, removed his hand to grasp both my arms and, with a movement so forceful, slammed me into the wall. His sturdy frame pinned me; I flailed, I kicked, Angelo pulled at his brother from behind, but his strength held me fast. In each fist, he held my wrists and raised them overhead, freeing one of his enormous paws to pin them both against the wall. With his free hand, he reached under my dress again, bending down to reach lower.

There was a woman's shriek and at once Mikael recoiled. My eyes had adjusted quite well to the dim light by then, and I could see that Angelo had woken Carol. I fell to the floor, staring up at her in amazement and gratitude. Mikael redirected his gaze away from his mother and at me. I saw there, in full wickedness, the mercilessness glinting his eyes. This was not over for him, not yet.

"Mikael," Carol said, her manner loving and calm, as if she were rousing her brutal son from sleep rather than interrupting his assault. "You've drank too much, come to bed."

Mikael continued to glare down at me.

Carol jerked her head cursorily in my direction. "You have no need of this one. You'll find yourself a pretty girl, a nice one, in time."

Mikael scowled at me, then turned and began ambling down the hallway towards his and Angelo's room. Carol followed him, placing her arm around him and helping him to bed as if he were a sick child.

"Blade, are you hurt?" Angelo's concern was urgent.

I shook my head a little. My shoulders and head ached tremendously, my wrists were covered in bruises, but I was not seriously injured. I attempted to stand, but did not have the energy.

Angelo extended both his hands and helped me to my feet. "You're certain you're not hurt?"

"Yes." I did my best to reflect my sincerity, no matter how faux it was. We stood in silence for many minutes.

"Too much drink," Carol appeared in the dimly lit hallway, shaking her head as she made her way over to us. "He's saleslady fast asleep. He won't 'member this come mornin'."

 _Are you suggesting that I forget this as well, Carol? This wasn't the first or last time_ , I wanted to say, but I knew better. I had no choice but to forget; they had full power over my security. Carol could starve me, throw me out if she wished.

Instead I replied, "I want to visit Uncle Vaan tomorrow... alone."

Carol considered this a time; her expression cold and suspicious. At last she offered, "Do as you wish, I ain't your momma."

I nodded. She returned the gesture in acknowledgement and turned to go - then stopped, and glared at me over her shoulder with the same harshness as her son, leaving me uncomfortable and in fear.


	4. Chapter 4

Back when I was a little girl of six or seven, and had never so much as thought about King's Landing once in my life, I knew a little girl in Asshai named Tinvara. Like me, she had been purchased as a baby; a foreign slave brought to Asshai to either be used as a sacrifical tool in magical rituals or to be raised as part of the future generation of Asshai'i. On the two year journey from Asshai to Volantis, I often contemplated which I was, but I will never know if I meant to be the former or latter.

Tinvara was a sweet girl, but she had a very unpleasant smell about her, and I think that's why our Warlock eventually sacrificed her to appease the Black Goat of Qohor. Whenever she spoke, no one paid her no more attention than they did the green phosphorescence of the Jade Sea and poor Tinvara would often sit right down on the ground and cry through her veil because no one would come near her. In the many months since I had been in King's Landing, I came to understand just what life must have been like for her; because I was a peasant and only three of Carol's children would be kind to me and adults only spoke to me when it was to give me an order or berate me. Carol had always treated me as though I were only a fly on the wall, for she had more important children on her mind. Vaan, although much more kind to me than his sister, was working for some great lord now and rarely came to visit in Flea Bottom - I quelled my contempt against him, for I believed he was under the assumption that I was fine and well in my current state.

During these two years in Westeros, I often wondered what had become of the Warlock, Gion. I also wondered about the other children he had kept, about my parents, about where I was really from. Most nights when I lay on the bare wooden floor of Carol's home, I was sick with anxiety and felt a hole inside myself - it was big and empty of love, family, affection, any good things. To comfort myself after Mikael's attack, I closed my eyes and imagined that I was walking along Shadowblack Lane. I pictured myself there on Aegon's High Hill so vididly that I could feel the expensive silk on my skin and smell the floral perfume upon my neck. In my mind, I rushed past the Red Keep and towards a man standing with his back towards me at the cliff-side overlooking the bay. I run faster, knowing that in another few moments I may be reunited with a man who may grow to love me. I never did manage to reach him in my fantasies; perhaps I was too afraid of rejection, and in any case, it was the trip along the path that seemed to comfort me most.

Then one of the girls' snoring near me reared me back to reality, and with that the smell of exotic perfume dissolved, the fine silk upon my skin turned into the coarse cotton sheet I used to keep warm at night, and I was left where I'd started with nothing but my loneliness and emptiness.


	5. Chapter 5

"You'll have to ask him for some coin." Carol said to me. "He hasn't helped us in weeks and feeding you ain't free."

Carol apparently didn't realize that I hadn't eaten in days, which was no surprise, really. Mikael controlled the money as of late and I was rarely permitted to eat. After she explained to me where to find the Crossroads Lodge, I slipped on my sandals, tingling with nervousness that Uncle Vaan might not help me.

I heard thunder rumble overhead and the air smelled of rain. So I hurried along the streets, past groups of people and down towards the harbor. No one gave me peculiar looks even though I must have looked more wretched than usual with my bruised arms and wrists.

So I followed the streets and after many blocks I found myself in an area with handfuls of fish stalls and crowds of busy shoppers. The harbor may have been busier than any other district today, despite the oncoming rain. It was full of life - but to me it seemed a sad place.

With the help of an elderly woman, I found the Crossroads Lodge in a dead-end alley with only three rundown shops. In the doorway of the lodge, stood an old man carrying on a conversation with a much younger woman. She couldn't have been much older than me.

"The mistress thinks I'll come back, but I won't," She was saying. "I'm going to Oldtowne and she can't stop me. I just need coin to do it. If you could just spare a few, we could go upstairs..."

"No, no, we don't your kinda business over here, Anne." He shook his head and scoffed, then he looked over at me for the first time. He didn't say anything, but gave me a nod of his head to tell me he was listening.

"Please, sir," I said, "do you have a man here named Vaan?"

"We don't have any Vaan here." He replied.

I was too shocked and too nervous to say anything.

"Why are you still here?" The old man asked me. "I told you, no Vaan here."

"Hey," The young prostitute spoke up. "Don't lie to her."

The man replied in a hushed tone, "Don't go getting us into trouble over nothing, Anne."

Anne looked me over and then muttered, "You're right, she ain't got a single copper on her."

And she was right. Until last night, I had never held a coin in my hand. Stupidly, I had given all the gold coins Petyr had gifted me, to The Seven. "If you need coin," I spoke up, "Vaan will pay you."

"Why would Vaan pay to see the likes of you?" The old man laughed.

"I'm his niece."

The man beckoned me closer with his hand. "Look at it," He said to Anne, nodding towards me, "dark hair, blue eyes, pretty little thing. Doesn't look a inch like Vaan." And with that, he tried to shoo me away with his hand. "Go away, you ain't no family of Vaan's."

I wasn't sure what to do, but I was determined. I had already come this far and already taken a step towards a new destiny; I certainly wasn't going to leave and go back to the house to be raped by Mikael just because this old man didn't believe me.

"I am sorry if you do not believe me," I spoke, "But if you would be kind enough to let my Uncle know I am here, I am sure he will not beat you too badly when he hears how you've treated his niece."

The old man narrowed his eyes at me and I stepped back to keep my distance. Yet, this must have been the right thing to say, because at last he turned to the prostitute and said "You go upstairs and get 'em. I'll stay here and keep my eye on this girl."

Anne turned and opened the door to walk into the lodge. I heard her climbing the stairs inside. Finally a man came out - he was taller than I had remembered and he had new scars on his face. I sprang to my feet and rushed to where he stood in the doorway. His skin was browned, much more tan than the last time I had saw him. I felt relief at seeing him and such hope, I could hardly keep myself from smiling.

"Blade," Vaan smiled back at me, "Come in."

I followed him into the brightly lit entrance hall of the Crossroads Lodge. Yet, the candle lights were more brown with dust than yellow, and the air smelled of tobacco and sweat. We made our way over to a small table next to an old bar and took a seat. There were a few other men seated around the bar.

He stroked my hair in a way that made me feel unexpectedly at ease. "We'll have to get you some new clothes, something a little decent." He whispered to me, looking over my rugged grey dress that had grown to be at least two size too small.

"That's why I came here today."

"Oh no," He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Carol already blown through the ten silver stags I gave her a little while back?"

"No," I replied and he raised his an eyebrow at me, "well, yes, but that's not why I'm here. I have to run away, Vaan. I can't stay in that place any longer."

"What's happened?" He asked, but I refused to answer. I looked up into his eyes and he understood without my words. "Mikael," He looked down at my bruised wrists and muttered, "But what do you expect me to do Blade? I can barely take care of your as it is; look at you. At least at Carol's, you're not on the street."

"Let me stay here with you," I whispered.

But he shook his head. "In a men's lodging house, never. Any other ideas?"

There were many moments of awkward silence, until I finally answered, "I want to work at one of the houses on the Street of Silk," I looked to Vaan for an answer, but received no response, "One of the nicer places."

He looked at me, wondering what kind of game I was playing. His voice was not very happy when he replied, "Why would you want that?"

"I don't want to stay in Flee Bottom for the rest of my life," I explained, "and I have no family to take care of me, no marriage prospects, no coin for an education and no desirable skill for trade. I do not wish to be just another back-alley Sally that meets with soldiers in the shadows, as I am destined to be. This is a comprise and I am being realistic."

"So, you want to be the next Irogenia of Lys," Vaan raised his chin and frowned with wide eyes, his features bunched up in frustration, "Then I should have just left you Braavos, you'd learn better to be a courtesan there," but then he nodded. "I can't make any promises, but I know a woman."


	6. Chapter 6

Early one morning quite some weeks later, I was sitting at the table scrubbing stains of stew out of Mikael's trousers, Angelo played with the toddlers in the living area near me, Carol slept in late upstairs and Mikael fiddled with a knife he had crafted in the back. We were all surprised when there was a gentle knock at our door. Mikael rushed from the back of the room to the front door to greet Vaan. With him was one of the most handsome women I had ever seen; she was curvy and tall, her skin dark like ebony and her eyes two orbs of sandalwood. Her dress was a sea of rich-looking green velvet and brightly colored feathers. She was such a striking woman, that I began to feel even more insignificant than usual.

The handsome woman had a pretty handmaiden with her as well, which only confirmed that she was a person of some importance. Certainly she was not of noble blood, but perhaps that daughter of a wealthy merchant - surely of a family that could afford expenses such as servants.

"Children," Vaan cleared his throat in an attempt to discourage our rude gawking at his guest, "This is Miss Chataya." He introduced the handsome woman to us and she flashed a pearly smile, before Vaan turned to speak to Mikael "Why don't you all run upstairs and grab your mother for me, would ya?"

As Mikael made his way up the stairs, Chataya turned her golden eyes towards me and spoke with an extremely exotic accent. "What is your name, little girl?"

I told her my name was Blade.

She took a few steps toward me and commanded firmly "Stand up for me, Blade. I'd like to have a look at you."

I rose from the table; but felt so embarrassed and ashamed of my dirty face, that I kept my head down.

"Come now, I won't ask again." She sighed. "I didn't come down here to waste my time."

I raised my head at her order and forced my eyes to look into hers, trying to fight back my nerves.

"What a beautiful face!" She exclaimed happily to Vaan, placing her warm palms against my cheek, "And she has a strange aura about her, or am I imagining it?"

"Yeah, now that you mention it," He replied, "I always thought so too."

Embarrassed, I tried to pull myself away, but Chataya's hands held my face firmly. She spoke again, "You want to appear cultured and enticing, do you not?" She asked me and I nodded softly, "Then you will not look away when someone is speaking to you. Now hold you head up, neck perfectly straight, don't ever let your head drop. And for seven's sake, don't look so scared."

"Bloody hell, Vaan," Carol shrieked as she came down the stairs. "Who is this woman?"

"Just a friend of mine," Vaan shrugged, "She's here to visit Blade."

"And what does _she_ want with _her_?"

"Come." Chataya commanded, taking my arm into hers and leading me towards the front door. She answered to no-one and left everyone there with their mouths wide-open in shock. "We shall take a short stroll together."

As we exited onto the busy street, I noticed two armed-men hovering near our door. When we made our way down the busy street, the handmaiden and the two mercenaries followed a short distance behind us. Beggars flocked to Chataya asking her to spare a few coin, merchants at stalls called out to her advertising their wares, and we glided past them as if they didn't even exist. Each step she took into the crowds was with confidence and people would move out of her way instinctively.

"Your accent is slight," She leaned into me to speak to me as we walked, "Where are you from?"

"It's hard to remember," I answered, but was unsure how much I should share, "But I believe I may have born in Qarth."

I must have lowered my eyes in shame without realizing it; for an in instant Chataya seemed able to read my very thoughts. "There's something more you're not telling me."

"Yes, my lady." I sighed, raised my head and tilted my face to the side to look at her when I spoke, "I spent much of my childhood in Asshai."

"Asshai! You must be joking." She smiled and pat my interlocked arm, "I knew I could sense the Dark Arts."

"I'd give anything to undo that portion of my life," I replied. "It's been more than four years since I left the Shadow Lands and ever since I've waited patiently in the hope that something good would happen in my life. Yet, I am beginning to believe I might be cursed."

"Being cursed just doesn't suit you," She laughed, "I'm glad that I do not have to work with a blank canvass. You're very insightful your age, I can sense it. I must ask, is your virtue still intact?"

I nodded my head.

She replied simply, "Good."

From the moment that Chataya stepped through our door, my nerves hadn't let me wonder why she was here or what her interest in me was; but it wasn't until now, here out in the crowded streets, that my eyes finally opened to what had been right before me all along. This was the woman Vaan had mentioned, someone that might help me.

"Are you," I began to ask, "a whore?"

"Heavens, no!" Chataya exclaimed, "You have much to learn, young sapling. I am here to generously offer you my investment in your future, which I expect you to repay... tenfold."


	7. Chapter 7

A seven-year old Blade watched as flames leapt from Gion's hands and spun around his staff, seeking virgin flesh. His magic had grown tremendously over the months they had spent with the masked red men in the Shadow Lands. His group of children had slowly dwindled from ten to four over just a year - not just from blood loss, but from the noxious presence emitted from the Ash River.

Blade stared up at his weak chin with many folds beneath it and she thought that he was surely in the fifth decade of his life, at the very least. His nose was prominent and his grey hair thinning evenly across his entire skull. He wore a simple black robe with a golden chain resting just above his belly. Gion was a man of many beliefs and talents; he did not consider himself merely a Shadow Binder, an Alchemist or Sorcerer. But since he hailed from Qarth, many considered him a skilled Warlock.

"For everything we take and everything we receive in this life, an equal price must be paid." Gion tells her as he uses a ceremonial needle to prick the skin on one of her fingers. The only time he was sweet to her, was when she was bleeding. "You will be okay, my dear. It is not your time."

He would move on to the next child, inspecting the red droplets as they fell from the children's fingers. They were camped out beneath one of the large rolling hills of ghost grass near the Ash River and Blade stared up in awe at the pale stalks that glowed in the moonlight. The sky was pitch-black and she could see no stars chasing across the skies. Hadn't she already felt that aching, empty sense of loss, even before the terrible event itself? Had it always been with her, even before that fateful day? There are screams, there are cries, there are whispers and then the air is filled with the charcoal-like smell of blazing flesh, combined with the sulfurous odor of inflamed hair. Blade does not turn her attention away from the ghost grass until Gion passes out small sticks that have pierced the cooked meat. The children no longer bat an eye.

"For some to enjoy peace, sacrifices must be made by others." Gion had told her. Later, there were walls stained forever red. Blade cried as she raised her hands, drenched in the crimson life force of innocent souls. A building in the City of the Night, conceived by twisted demons and haunted by the corpses of the virtuous. "No lasting peace comes without sacrifice. We have not sacrificed enough and now the Long Night is coming. Do you feel it, my dear?"


	8. Chapter 8

Northwest of Rhaeny's Hill, Vaan and I were escorted through a large wooden gate and past two uniformed footmen. We approached a long stretch of cobbled courtyard faced by a row of low-roofed sheds as we entered the estate on the Street of Silk. The neighs of beautiful stags echoed from a pen alongside lofty walls. Beyond a hedge of floral shrubs that separated it from the rest of the manse, I saw a great house that towered over the yard with marble columns and intricately designed eaves.

We crossed the courtyard to a flight of stone steps that led up to the entrance of the house. Over the door hung an ornate lamp, the midday sun glittering against a globe circle of metal and scarlet glass. As we made our way up, I heard the sound of doors opening and looked to to see a young woman had appeared at the doorway; she rivaled Chataya not only in height and beauty, but also had her dark tone. A quilted dress of finely embroidered orange silk flowed across her frame, a belt of golden beads strategically placed to highlight her tiny waist. Unexpectedly, she reached out to me and a gentle hand, no more threatening than a fly, caressed my chin, my hair, my cheek - turning my face one way than the other. She smiled down at me with mild approval.

"I am Alayaya." The words were quietly spoken with only a hint of an accent from the Summer Isles. The smell of sickly-sweet perfume radiated from her skin. Her long fingernails shined with golden lacquer. "There is no need to be afraid. I mean you no harm, child."

"Let our guests in, Yaya." A familiar female voice rose peevishly from inside the house.

When Alayaya stepped aside for us to enter, my senses were immediately won over by the smell of exotic spices and the serenade of a single harp. I would never forget the awe I felt when I entered the reception hall of Chataya's Pleasure House, for never in my life had I seen such elegant furnishings; hallways lined with splendid tapestries in heavily gilded frames, leaded windows draped in burgundy velvet, bedrooms with exquisite artwork, glass mosaics in several room, screens imported from Myr to create an illusion of privacy, wardrobes filled with soft silks, and a kitchen often filled with roast swan and arbor wine.

"Madam." Vaan greeted Chataya as she approached us. I bowed my head and below my feet was a stone ground mosaic of two unclothed women entwined in love. The refinement of it all stirred feelings of unease and excitement inside me. When I finally raised my head, I was met with Chataya scowling at me. Instantly, a firm slap warmed my cheek.

"Really, Blade, you must stop lowering your head in that way. You look like a peasant! Keep your head high like nobility."

"I'm sorry, Madam," I said, my cheek was still warm and surely red. "I was admiring the artwork and..."

Her smooth voice cut me short, "Only someone who was not accustomed to such finery, would be. Now, you will be very careful about the image you present to the world."

Chataya was quite right. I wanted my world to change a great deal, and I would need to change in order to do so.

"You are fortunate you have such a loving uncle so concerned for your welfare." Chataya spoke, "You may leave her here in my care now, Vaan."

Vaan bowed in respect to Chataya. Then he placed a gentle kiss on my forehead, turned away and left quickly through the front door without a word.

"There are many rules in my house," Chataya spoke again after Vaan's departure. Her words were firm, but her voice was not unkind. "You will work, you will not steal, you will not complain, you will tell me no lies and you will cause no trouble. Follow these rules and you will be treated well."

With Alayaya and I in tow, Chataya led us through to the common room where the beautiful harp strings rang into the air. Behind a Myrish screen that had been hand-carved with beautiful flowers and young maidens, sat two people; to the left was a breathtaking woman with green eyes and long straight white-gold hair, her porcelain finger tips strung at the golden harp; to the right at a cushioned alcove underneath a colored glass window, sat an older gentleman uniformed like the two footmen at the gate.

"Why, hello there!" Exclaimed the man who was happily smoking a pipe beneath the sunlight pouring through the window. He rose to his feet eagerly and approached me, his pudgy cheeks white as lard. A well-manicured mustache drooped on either side of his weak, pink mouth. He eagerly spoke, after a punctuated cough, "She is a splendid little thing!"

"Aron, this is our new protege, Blade," Alayaya happily introduced us, "This is one of our menservants, Aron." She turned to nod over to the beautiful musician, "Over there is Marei."

The fair-haired Marei seemingly ignored Alayaya as she approached us.

"Did I not tell you? Am I not correct?" Chataya insisted to Aron, I assumed about my appearance.

Marei cast me a withering glance and I wondered if she was always this solemn, but then she spoke, "Few men will find her pleasing. She has the hands and feet of farmhand. She's probably illiterate too. You're wasting your time."

"That's where you're wrong, Marei." Chataya rebutted, "Once we get her a much needed bath, and out of that raw wool and dull rough-spun, she'll be quite pleasing. Especially to those seek the mysterious, the extraordinary, and the untouched. She'll learn to entertain our clients with wonderful tales from Asshai."

"Untouched?" Marei's eyes fixed unsmiling upon me and her voice rang with contempt. "Since when has a girl of her age and standing remained untouched?"

Alayaya knelt beside me and patted me on the back with encouragement, "Tell her that you are an exquisite creature that is pure as a lily."

"I..." I began, trying to speak against my anxiety. I looked around the room at all the eyes upon me. "I swear by all the gods," my voice cracked with my nerves, "that I am an exquisite creature that is pure as a lily not yet opened by the morning sun."

"Good girl!" Alayaya laughed, patting my head.

Marei's face blushed with red with fury and the other's gave laughs of approval.

"And," I spoke again, trying to feign confidence, "I can read and write a little too."


	9. Chapter 9

"For many years I've had this idea of finding a girl about your age to be a teacher to. For my other girls started out a bit older." Chataya spoke to me from across the table of her office. "This youth would learn to play music, dance, sing, recite poetry, speak with the most proper language, have good manners, all while consciously keeping her movements graceful and attractive." She paused in her speech to take a sip of wine, "You may wonder why I expect a prostitute should bother learning these things, but the answer is very simple - lowly street walkers and brothel wenches have no place here. We're renowned for our sophistication and we're well-respected. My girls encompass a far wider range of skills apart from the sexual. Do you understand?"

I nod in understanding, "Yes, Madam."

"Over the last few months, I have taken on several new girls. Some of them worked hard, some of them slacked off. Others stole, tried to keep coin for themselves, fought with my other girls, disrespected my clients... In the end, none of them worked out. I would bring them here to this room and explained to each of them that I wouldn't tolerate them making a fool of my graciousness any longer; that they needed to seek employment elsewhere."

"Madam," I replied quickly, "I promise you, that will never happen with me. Thanks to you, my heart is drunk with hope that my eyes could never see."

"Yes, well, that's all fine," She spoke, "But you will also learn to live by another rule we keep in this house. You will see no men outside of your clients. We can't afford to love here."

I told her I understood and promised her I wouldn't; but I must confess that when I thought of Petyr... well, everything I was doing was to bring myself closer to his world. I wasn't entirely sure my feelings could just melt away like snowflakes. Yet, I barely knew him. Would he even remember me if he saw me again? It was likely I'd never see him again anyway. Chataya was presenting me with a great opportunity to live a life I'd always dreamed of full of silks, jewels, coin and the lot. With those thoughts, I felt my resolve for the Lord Petyr weaken slightly.

The velvet curtains behind Chataya's chair parted to admit a tan-skinned woman. A robe of olive-colored silk, so fine it drifted with every graceful movement, was wound around her shapely body and over her shoulder, leaving her naval exposed. She had dark shining hair and large eyes of startling green. Between strong black brows a single emerald was suspended by a golden chain. An elusively seductive perfume accompanied her, alone with the slightest tinkling from a bracelet of golden bells. Her feet were bare, toenails lacquered in the same gold as Alayaya.

"This is Jayde - one of my most gifted girls." Chataya introduced her delightedly.

Jayde's luminous eyes fell upon me and I returned her serious, unblinking gaze. The exchange was strangely pleasing.

"This poor child comes to us from a very hard life in Flea Bottom," Chataya said to Jayde. "Her name is Blade. See that she is bathed, fed and allowed some rest."

Jayde turned towards the door that led out to the hallway and led the way, I followed through paneled hallways softly lit by candles, many doors on either side. Jayde's calming voice reached out to me, gesturing to a few doors. "These are our working quarters where we meet privately with clients. You will know these rooms when you're ready."

We reached the end of the hallway and slipped through a door that was slightly ajar. The room was small and simply furnished: a pair of four-poster canopied beds spread with brightly colored quilts, each curtained for privacy; a dressing table crowded with paints, perfume and brushes; two sets of tall, hand-painted wardrobes with many drawers; shelves filled with trinkets and books; and a divan scattered with large, colorful cushions. On a low table of weirwood stood a clay bowl ladden with figs, plums and sour cherries. Next to the fruit was a bottle of Dornish sour red and two silver goblets. Through the open window came the unpleasant aroma from the city outside and Jayde reacted by quickly smoldering jasmine incense.

"You'll stay here with me until you've grown too old to share a room." Jayde smiled at me and then indicated the wardrobe with a nod of her head. "Your clothes and other things can be kept in there."

From a wardrobe, she took a folded cotton nightdress and a towel, placing them gently onto the bed farthest from the window. Then, opening an adjoining door, where a large round washing basin full of steaming warm water. Jayde shared with me that I needed to call upon Aron when I needed the basin filled with hot water. Also, she showed me the various fragrant oils and herbs that could be poured into the steamy clouds of the bath.

"You must stay clean at all times." Jayde said as she handed me a washcloth. "You will need to bathe after each client and at least twice a day."

At the door, she paused and turned back. "Chataya is kind, but she is also strict." A smile of understanding touched her eyes when she spoke again. "It will difficult here, but I will help you. It will not take long to prove your worth if you're obedient and trust her judgement. If don't prove your worth" - she gave a shake of her head and a slight shrug - "then that would be a shame."

And with that, Jayde quietly closed the door and I was content with my sudden change of destiny. Soon, I was lost among the wonder of my first luxurious bath, the scented oils softening the rough skin on my feet and palms.


	10. Chapter 10

After my bath, I dined on the sweet fruit and indulged in two glasses of Dornish Red. Then, I slept soundly in the first bed I had known in many years. By early afternoon, I rose to handsome woman chatting happily with Jayde at the table near the windowsill. Her cute, little pug-nose was decorated with freckles. Long, thick red lock cascaded past her waist. She introduced herself as Dancy before making her exit.

Jayde brought me a gown of rose-colored silk, alone with a silver flask and two tiny cups. She sat beside me on the bed and held the first flask high, measuring the golden liquid to fill the tiny cups. "This is a wonderfully rare tonic," she spoke calmly, "we call it Dragon's Blood. It's lotus tea mixed with a single tear of the poppy, a touch of essence of nightshade, a grain of sweetsleep, a drop of dreamwire and sweetened by exotic spices from Qarth."

I asked, "What does it do?"

"It will awaken your senses." She answered, steadily cradling one of the small cups in the in the fingertips of both hands, handing it to me carefully as though it were goblet of liquid gold. "This will open your heart and your mind."

Jadye drained her cup with a single swallow, watching me as I did the same. The Dragon's Blood was sweet to the tongue, soothing my throat, its passage pleasantly warm until it blossomed and brought a flush to my cheeks. She flashed a small smile as a reaction to my expression and then took the red gown into her hands. "The silk is from Braavos but the design is Dornish. All clothing serves a single purpose here - to make you feel as beautiful as you look." In a gesture of encouragement, she handed me the gown. "Once you've been here longer, there will be many splendid things in your wardrobe. We even have a tailor who come to fit you for all that you will need. And there is a doctor that will see that you are well and vigorous. Also there's a man who will help you care for your teeth, a woman for your hair, and an alchemist who will brew tonics for your womb." She paused, "Chataya takes great care of those in her life."

I smiled at her, "I'm very grateful."

"Come," Jayde smiled back, patting the red gown in-between my hands. "Let's try on the dress and see how it fits."

I stood from the bed, but was hesitant to remove the nightgown in front of Jayde.

It's as if she could sense my nervousness. She grabbed my hand gently, "You must never be ashamed to undress in this house, before me or any of the other women or in front of men. To be proud of your body is of utter importance."

Despite my flushed cheeks, I allowed Jayde to remove the cotton nightgown. She slipped it over my head and tossed it aside. She stepped back to see me better and I tried my hardest to stare back at her, hiding my timidity.

"You're almost a woman," Jayde said, her thin fingers reaching without warning to lightly touch the bouquet of hair beginning to grow between my legs. Then, she led me over to the corner of the room towards a full length mirror. Next, standing behind me, she adjusted the polished surface to reflect my full height. It was the first time I had seen myself and it caused the heat in my skin to prickle. Back in Essos, the ripples of the sea distorted the image of my face and there had been no mirrors in Flea Bottom. I had always wondered what I truly looked like.

My skin was a pale bronze, pitch-black hair loose beyond my shoulders. My blue eyes were made brighter by thick dark lashes and slender arched brows. My neck was long, frame petite. More blood rushed to my cheeks at the sight of my ample breasts, my nipples tingling as though they were being touched. In a dreamlike daze, I watched as Jayde's long, gold-tipped fingernails gently caressed the curve between my waist and hip. Then, she turned me slightly, urging me to look at my flatness of my midsection, and shapely-ness of my backside. Coming back to my senses and shyness, I attempted to cover my face with my hands.

Jayde gently grabbed my wrists, pulling them back down to my side and turning me back to confront my reflection in the mirror. "See how lovely you are." Her slender fingers shifted lightly from my wrists and up to my breasts. I took in a deep breath as she began to massage me, the pleasure was so new to me and I started to close my eyes, but then she instructed me, "Blade, do you trust me?" I still felt shy, but I responded with an eagar nod. "Then open your eyes."

I watched as she pushed the hair upon my neck aside, lowered her head, and my skin met her tongue. The curiosity and sweet impatience inside of me rose. Her face was so close to mine, her breath sweet and warm. Her kissed stopped and she whispered into my ear, "See how ready you are to learn? You must be patient. Your innocence is a gift, to be given to someone steep fee."

Jayde turned me to face her. I was an inch or two shorter and she tilted her head down slightly as though on impulse, lightly kissing my brow, the tip of my nose, my cheek, the warm hollow of my throat. Her lips lingered at my throat before seeking my mouth, her tongue softly exploring my mouth. My senses faltered, every touch fascinated me. Suddenly, she pulled away and turned me back towards the mirror, her fingertips teasingly moving from shoulders, to my breast, down my stomach and stopping. Her warm breath was at my ear again, "Have you never been touched before?"

Biting my bottom lip, I shook my head back and forth a little.

"Good," she whispered in reply, "Ecstasy from a tempered woman will prepare you well for the clumsiness and hurriedness of selfish men. It's my duty to teach you these things."

Days passed, nights passed, the latter shared with Jayde and cups of Dragon's Blood. In the darkness, our arms and legs entwined. Our lips and hands exploring each other in nightly secrecy. She taught me how to feign innocence and chaste curiosity, while pretending to be eager to satisfy anything a man might ask of me.


	11. Chapter 11

The next year flew by faster than a gazelle with a lion on its trail. My days were filled with lessons on the harp with Marei, dancing with Alayaya and singing with Dancy. During my lessons, often Chataya would correct my speech or berate me for slouching or lowering my head. Once I was struck severely for not following protocol and serving wine before the raspberry tarts. There were times I was disciplined for having dirty fingernails, or for letting my hair fall unattractively in front of my face, or something of that sort - and as much as I loathed it at the time, I eventually realized that this strict regiment aided me to never forget what I had learned. My nightly lesson with Jayde continued and we even expanded into massage arts; she showed me how to use oils to tame the roaring tiger inside a man. I would continue to learn until grace and beauty formed themselves as part of my daily life.

One morning in the midst of summer, Vaan arrived in the courtyard of the manse on horseback. I easily spotted the golden hair in the bright sun. When he recognized me in the window sill, he gave a shout. He had aged some, but was looking more glorious-looking than ever, clad in pale blue satin. In a years time, he had been hired by some other highborn lord. Later in life, I would learn that he was a hired assassin, carrying out ruthless orders given by his lord to keep their family in power. I hurried outside and after he had dismounted, we embraced; despite our lack of actual kinship, I could not help smiling with joy at the sight of him, "Vaan, my darling uncle."

And when I pressed my cheek to his, he let out a gasp. I couldn't think what was the matter.

"My goodness," he said to me, "I hardly recognize you."

I certainly wondered at the time what he was talking about. But evidently in the six months since I had last seen him, I'd changed more than I realized. Vaan asked me to turn my head this way and that, and kept saying over and over, "You're so grown!" At one point, he even held out his hand and asked me to twirl for him in my red silk gown. My dresses and gown were always red silk. Jayde had explained to me that red was a provocative color for a girl who still held her virtue.

I attempted to nonchalantly ask him about his new employment, about the horse, about the satin cloth, but he evaded my inquires with ease. I served him wine in the common room while he asked questions about my days at Chataya's Pleasure House. He asked, "Well, why do you have to learn all this nonsense anyway? It's just a brothel."

I answered him, "This isn't some five copper bawdy house. You must remember that above all, I will become an entertainer and performer. In the future, I may lay with men, but I will never be just a whore." I smiled over at him. "And in fact, we're so well pampered by maids and menservants here, that I scarcely know how to look after myself or keep my own room. It's quite luxurious."

Vaan was taken back by not only my response, but I suspect by my carefully crafted demeanor in general. He released a disbelieving little laugh, "You're becoming more a woman every time I see you." He blushed, "So, tell me more about your days."

I explained what makes a courtesan's training so difficult; it wasn't just the arts I was learning, but how hectic my life had become. After spending most mornings in lessons with the girls, I was still expected to continue learning in the afternoons and evenings, with at least one hour dedicated to reading about topics such as ancient history, foreign literature, current politics, dragonlore, and another hour dedicated to strengthening my writing skills with a hired tutor. I studied reading, writing and speaking the Common Tongue ever since my arrival, and Chataya insisted I also become well-versed in High Valryian. At night, I was to stay locked in my room alone while the other girls entertained clients around the house. And still, I slept no more than three to four hours every night.

Several times a week, Chataya or Alayaya would dress me up and walk with me around King's Landing. Even when it rained, we walked under lacquered umbrellas. At first, I thought this was to teach me things like proper posture - for Chataya had never stopped raping on me to stand straighter. Then I thought these walks were to teach me how to behave toward people in public - both women seemed to know anyone of importance, and they always made a point of smiling or saying something. In all actuality, our afternoon strolls were so that people in the city would see us strolling together - to create a reputation for me, so that I was known. Once, Alayaya stopped to turn to me and asked, 'You're getting rather well known, don't you think? Men already come asking for you and mother has to tell them you're not ripe yet.'

I won't say I had any natural talent of any kind at all, in language or anything else; but I certainly was determined as anyone to work simplemindedly until I reached my goal. Since meeting Petyr outside the sept a little more than a year ago, I had longed for nothing so much as the chance to make something of myself in King's Landing. Now that Chataya has given me the chance, I was intent on making my dreams come true. But with all the lessons and my high expectations, I felt completely overwhelmed... though, I was being trained to never show my actual emotions.

On top everything else, I dreaded my weekly torture sessions with Dancy's hairdresser. She would hold my head over a large sink in a position that made me feel as if I were preparing for a beheading. Then she would pour several large buckets of hot water over my scalp and began scrubbing it, for nothing was more unattractive than the white flakes of dandruff according to Dancy. So, her hairdresser would scrub my scalp raw with hot water and lemon juice until I teared up. When she was done assaulting my scalp with her tonics, she would take a comb of Ironwood through my tangles until the muscles in my face were sore. Finally, she combed primrose oil through my tresses, which made it soft and gave it a beautiful sheen.

And everything mattered. Everything I was doing and being taught, it mattered. In truth, there were some nights, when I was locked in my room, that I would spend hours in the mirror just admiring and studying myself. One night, something happened while I was staring at my reflection; I knew the person standing before the mirror was me, but the woman gazing back was a stranger. I felt that I was staring at someone important. It was if the little girl who ran barefoot from Pentos to Braavos in fear for her life, no longer existed. I felt that this young woman, with her gleaming skin and painted lips, had murdered her.

"With all that," Vaan drew a breath in before continuing, "I imagine you'll become quite popular."

"I don't want to be popular," I replied. "I want to be successful. Having many men isn't everything. The right generous lord might pay me ten times more than most suitors - a man interested in something else - not a night together, but a much longer time."

"So, you're hoping to find a husband?" He asked, the confusion very clear on his face.

"No," I giggled, and then my tone turned fierce, "I'll never marry. But ideally, I would like to find a lord who would cover all my living expenses; what's more, he would provide me with spending money, and buy me gifts like gowns and jewelry. And when he spends time with me, he won't pay my usual hourly fee, he'll probably pay more."

"Blade," he said, his voice low and tense, his words somber. "I've said it already, and I'll probably keep saying it; you've certainly grown up fast."


	12. Chapter 12

Summer passed, Fall and Winter too. I may have been no more than sixteen, but it seemed to me I'd lived three lives already. My new life was still beginning, my old life in Flea Bottom had come to an end some time ago. More than several years had passed since I'd experienced my days in Essos, and it was amazing to me how completely the landscape of my life mind had been altered.

Still, when I was not being taught how to properly speak and write the Common Tongue, to move and dance like a courtesan, and to observe all the finer points of Highborn etiquette, I was learning the refinements of eroticism in the arts of pleasing men. For example, Jayde continued to teach me how to create pleasure and pain in the muscles, with her soothing and experienced hands, so that one day I would massage the body of man. Dancy shared her secrets of blending fragrant oils and herbs to excite a man's senses in the pleasure of a bath. Marei could use her mouth and words with astonishing skill; she taught me how to play different roles and create proactive fantasies - sometimes there were even props and costumes. With Chataya, I would practice how to weave false stories about myself and the distant lands to the east; my fictitious mother in Lys, who had powerful men travel from faraway kingdoms just for an evening with her; the illusory years I spent as a child studying the dark erotic arts in Asshai; the imaginary accounts of witnessing centaurs gallop across the the Plains of the Jogos Nhai, griffins soar over the Grey Waste, leviathans rise from the Shivering Sea, and dragons resting peacefully in the caves in the Mountains of the Morn.

During the Spring, after I had been in Chataya's Pleasure House for almost two years, Chataya and Jayde decided that the time had come for me to meet several clients in the form of a party. "Men are only interested in one thing, which you won't be giving them right away," Chataya told me. "In the meantime, you're going to intrigue their interests."

I didn't rest at all that day. What I had wanted for so long had finally come to pass, and oh, how the butterflies in my stomach fluttered! The idea of dressing in the exquisite clothing I admired and presenting myself to a roomful of wealthy men was enough to make my palms glisten with sweat. Every time I thought of it, I felt a most delicious nervousness that tingled all the way from knees to my chest. I imagined myself inside the common room, sliding the Myr screen open and the men turning their heads to look at me; and of course, I saw Petyr there among there. Sometimes I imagined him alone in the room, he held bejeweled golden goblet. More than anything else in the world, I wanted to pour it full of Arbor Red for him and feel his eyes upon me as I catered to his every need.

"Go take another bath," Jayde said to me. "You're too nervous, you've been perspiring too much."

The party that evening, the first I was ever to attend, was a small gathering in the common room with several of Chataya's regular clientele. One evening each week, we were to feast on fine food and wine, while entertaining the guests - the other girls were, of course, allowed to offer their services at the end of the evening.

Jayde changed me into a loose dress of white silk and lace. It wasn't the most beautiful dress you would ever see, but when I looked at myself in the full length mirror, I found that I might have been taken for young noble bride on her way to her wedding bed. You might expect that with the ornaments in my hair, the brilliant flowering red on my lips, and my cheeks tinted a soft pink, that I would have looked proud and lovely, but my reflection looked more worried than anything else.

I felt quite on edge when I walked out of the room and Jayde, and thought Chataya would berate me, or something of the sort. But she only smiled and went directly to the stairs, where she looked back over her shoulder at me. "I should tell you," she said to me, "that Tyrion is... odd looking. He's quite a funny man. You'll make a good impression on him tonight." After she said this, she gave me a look as if to say I would be an utter failure if I didn't.

We descended the stairs to the first floor entrance way. Then, we entered the common room. I hardly dared to look when Chataya led me inside, but I could see seven or eight men seated on the cushions all around the table on the floor, with Alayaya, Dancy and Marei. Jayde took a seat on the cushioned floor. The table's edges were spread with tempting foods; candied plums, custard and honey cakes. There were at least a dozen varieties of wine, along with bottles of ale and flasks of rum.

Chataya said to the room, "I'd like to introduce my newest little girl, Blade."

And then I smiled wide as I curtsied a little, remembering to keep my head high. I noticed Tyrion immediately and realized at once why Chataya had warned me about his appearance; my first impression was of an chestnut, for he was very small and round. With his stubby legs and jutting forehead, I thought it was the first time I had seen a dwarf this close. At once I realized he was _thee_ Tyrion, Tyrion of House Lannister. The Lannisters were among the wealthiest families in the Seven Kingdoms.

"Oh Yaya..." I heard Tyrion say as he placed one of his small arms across the back of Alayaya's neck. "I never tire of your beauty." Upon catching my gaze, he stood up and crossed the room towards me with brisk little steps. He took Chataya's hand in his and placed a wet kiss atop of it; and never had I seen my madam beam a smile so bright.

"Lord Tyrion," She spoke with such happiness in her voice, "I would like to personally introduce you to Blade."

"It's a pleasure." He smiled up at me, taking my hand gently in his.

I tried my hardest to feign excitement in my eyes and smile, I even tried to force a blush to my cheeks. "The pleasure is all mine, my lord."

With this, Tyrion chuckled, "Nonsense, pretty girl." He then outstretched his arm, offering me his own wine goblet. I didn't particularly want to share the same cup with the dwarf that was infamous for swapping saliva with new whores on a nightly basis, but I also could not be rude. So I accepted his offer and reached for the cup, but my hands were trembling so much that it slipped from my grasp.

"Careful girl!" he said, recovering the goblet from the stone ground.

I was so embarrassed that even after I apologized, I couldn't help glancing at Chataya again and again and again to see if she was angry with me. When I took my placed beside Tyrion on the cushions, he seemed to stare at me more than Alayaya at his other side. After a few seconds, I realized it was just his curiosity, which only made me feel more self-conscious.

To distract myself from my anxiety, I decided to focus my attention away from Tyrion and greet the other guests. Across the table from me was Ser Meryn Trant, a member of the Kingsguard. He was a nervous man with droopy eyes and a kind of brutish look about him, he sat quietly chatting with Dancy while he smoked from the silver bowl of a pipe fashioned in the shape of a lion. He didn't even look at me, but my attention lingered in his direction. I focused my attention not on Meryn, but on a very thin and elegant man seated beside him. From the moment I set my eyes on this man, I felt a strange warmness settling over me. He was in an intense conversation with Marei, with his back to me. He was so familiar to me, that for a moment my heart stopped beating all at once.

Tyrion said something and everyone laughed; I had no idea was the joke was, but I pretended to laugh too.

"In the meantime, I'll give Blade a cup of rum to calm her nerves," Tyrion said, handing me a glass filled to the brim with brown liquor. I tried my best to steal glances at the back of the man's head across the table. I couldn't stop thinking where I knew the man from, if I even knew him at all.

After serving me the rum, the little man beside me sat flirting with Alayaya and payed little attention to me. Then he looked at me and asked "What's the matter with you, girl? Or have I just drunk too much?" He had certainly drunk too much - though I decided it would not be proper to tell him. He seemed to have forgotten the question he'd asked me altogether - or maybe he never expected me to actually answer, because now he asked my age. I told him I was only sixteen.

"You're the prettiest sixteen-year-old I've ever seen. Here, take this," He said, and handed me five Gold Dragon coins and called across the room. "Isn't she the prettiest little girl, you've ever seen, Littlefinger?"

"There's more to life than just gawking at pretty girls, Tyrion." The familiar voice replied. When I took my first look at his face, less than inches away from Marei's, I felt sick with disappointment and jealousy. His eyes never met mine for more than a flicker of an instant. I had only seen the man I loved once in my life; but I had spent countless hours fantasizing him. Now, faced with reality, his skin had a few more wrinkles than I had remembered and his hair held even more streaks of grey, but I knew without a doubt that it was Petyr. I had always imagined that when I found him, I would feel overcome with joy; but I felt the pangs of sadness as he placed a kiss upon Marei's full lips.

My heartbreak was short-lived, as Tyrion invited each of us girl's to entertain him. Dancy sang a hilarious rendition of _The Rains of Castamere_ , Marei filled the room with beautiful chords from her harp, Alayaya swayed her hips back and forth seductively in Tyrion's lap, and Jayde recited poetry ladden with sensuality. And I... was supposed to weave exciting tales from the east, but now with the realization that Petyr was there, I was too self-concious to even speak. _What if my voice should crack or my words not pleasant enough?_ Tyiron, with his impatient eyes, stared at me blankly, but Petyr didn't even notice me. So, I began my tale about my birth in Qarth, but Tyrion wanted to know about my time spent here in King's Landing. When I began with my fictional account of the infamous pirate lord, Salladhor Saan, rescuing me from a Pleasure House in Lys and being so captivated by my beauty that he swept me across the sea in the _Valyrian_ and straight into the arms of Chataya, Tyrion stopped me. He turned to Chataya and me several times, shaking his head. "No girl, the _real_ story."

Well, the truth was, I was finding it difficult that these men - who had paid so considerably to be there, among women wrapped in beautiful, expensive silks - really wanted to hear the same sort of stories about King's Landing and Flea Bottom. I had already imagined I'd feel out of my depth in a conversation about literature, or politics, or something of that sort - but now Tyrion was asking me to display my commonfolk status. To show the men there that I was really a runaway slave that I had really lived most of my life poor, illiterate and humble.

Still silent, unsure how to proceed, I looked across the table and saw that Petyr was looking at me with what I took to be pity.

"Now, Tyrion," Petyr spoke with a humorous tone, "leave the poor girl alone. Look, you're frightening her."

And with that, Tyrion fell back into flirtations with Alayaya beside him while Petyr, across the table turned his attention back to Marei. Then, an an elderly man from one of the other cushions rose, crossed the room slowly and took a seat beside me. Pycelle was an ugly man, of an age impossible to guess, perhaps almost sixty, perhaps seventy or older. He was balding with a full white beard and heavy chains wound together across his red velvet robe. He placed a cool hand upon my head, "So it is true - you are every bit the beauty Chataya claimed! Indeed, you are more magnificent than poor words could ever convey!"

"Thank you, my lord." I smiled with a feigned shyness at the compliment.

"Lord?" Pycelle scoffed, "I am the Grand Maester."

"My apologies, Grand Maester." I did not hesitate in a reply, and turned away slightly to act embarrassed. As the evening wore on and cups were emptied, most of the men and women had reached an intoxicating state of abandon. While the other girls drew attention to themselves from various men, I sat encouraging Pycelle's intentions whilst he rambled on about his courtly duties and gossip circulating around the Red Keep. There was nothing I wanted less than the intentions of that sweaty, elderly man, but I pretended to seem interested. The look on my face painted a girl who had never been more involved in the stories of a boring old man. I felt ridiculous. Secretly, my eyes searched the room for a way to disentangle myself.

My eyes met with Jayde's, who was entertaining Ser Meryn Trant and another gentleman a little across the room. I looked to her and then my eyes gestured to the Grand Maester beside me. She responded to my plea with a nod, in one swift and graceful gesture, she was immediately at Pycelle's other side to coax him into receiving a much needed shoulder rub.

After Jayde had procured Pycelle's full attention, I tugged at my silk gown, trying to display as much decolletage as possible. Then, I removed the barrettes from my hair, allowing it to swirl freely over my shoulders. I rose from the pillows, took a few steps around the table and sat so that I was on Petyr's other side. I had been waiting for some excuse for him to speak to me, but could wait no longer.

Only a moment later, Petyr turned away from Marei and I found myself face-to-face with him. He gave me a dazzling smile. "Hello, my lady." He spoke softly, as if his words were meant for no other ears but mine. "Would you care for a glass of wine?"

I smiled. "Yes, thank you, my lord."

"I saw you with Pycelle," He said, grabbing two goblets of wine from the table in front of him and extending one towards me. I happily took mine into my hands and listened closely for him to finish his sentence. "I can't imagine you like having someone so much older courting you."

"Was it that obvious, my lord?" I replied in jest.

"Plain as day." He said with a raised eyebrow and mischievous smirk as he leaned towards me. "Hopefully my age isn't a deterrent for you."

Before I could decide on what to say next, Petyr began to speak about himself at some length. It seemed that he was born a lord of the small and insignificant House Baelish, but as I had inferred, he had made a substantial fortune over the years. However, he shared with me that he had risen as high as he can on wealth alone, and he needed to ally with a notable noble family through marriage to advance in society any further.

As he spoke, I thought surely he could see through my carefully crafted persona and see the _genuinely_ enchanted girl with flickering eyes stuck on his every move, gesture and word. Whenever he laughed, I felt an _authentic_ smile creep up my lips. Whenever he had to explain something I didn't understand, I giggled with _real_ girlish embarrassment. Several times, I felt the urge to ask him if he could remember a night outside the Great Sept where he had comforted a crying peasant - but of course I did not ask. When our evening came to and end, I turned away from Petyr with much difficulty.

That night, I fell asleep fantasizing; I was kneeling on the cushioned ground in the common room, wearing nothing more than heavy jewels around my neck, with Petyr across from me. He knelt down to put a magnificent crown atop my head, and I had a feeling that I might drown. That night, it had struck me that wealth and beauty could be an unpredictable sorrow.


	13. Chapter 13

"Do you think he found me attractive?" I asked Jayde one evening while we laid in bed.

"I'm sure the answer is yes," Jayde replied in a quiet whisper, "but who are we speaking of?"

My whisper was quick, but hushed. "Lord Baelish." Even with just the mention of his name, I felt the blood rush to my cheeks.

"Well, he certainly wasn't attracted to your conversation." She mocked my quietness.

I rolled over in bed, pretending to not let her jest hurt my feelings.

"Jayde, what is love?"

"You're full of curiosity tonight," She said suspiciously, "Well, love is that person you think of above all others... that person that comes to your mind when you first open your eyes in the morning, and at night when you close your eyes."

Some weeks passed and Petyr never returned to the weekly gatherings at Chataya's Pleasure House. My heart ached with a need a to see him again, to just speak to him. Since finding him again, I'd begun to think of all the possibilities we could have together. And now, knowing his identity, I began to pay extra attention to the gossip that swirled about the Master of Coin. Every night I would lay in my bed, relieving the few moments I shared with him. But in reality, my time was spent with other noble men who frequented the bordello.

Late one afternoon, Chataya came up to me in the courtyard during a break in one of my lessons, very excited about something. It seemed that on the previous evening, Grand Maester Pycelle had mentioned to her quite casually that King Robert Baratheon would need the service of our house. The king was known to request wenches from many of the less-refined whorehouses on Silk Street, but every so often he would spend a bit of coin on a finer variety of women. The decision to purchase an evening with all the girls from our home, prompted Grand Maester Pycelle to request the private company of one girl in particular for another patron.

"That you are actually a virgin was his only remaining concern, and that he has been assured of. What Pycelle is asking of you, he will pay dearly to get." She explained to me.

I wasn't especially excited, but for Chataya's sake, I clapped my hands in excitement and said how grateful I was for her. How dearly I had prayed to the Seven that my virtue would be given to Petyr. But alas, that could never be. I asked, "And how much of this considerable sum is mine?"

"Half," She smiled at me, "500 Gold Dragons."

I almost choked on my own saliva. I was the first to confess I did not know much about currency, but with that amount, Chataya explained that one could throw a lavish feast and still buy an entire stable of horses. With this, she carefully selected a ripe pomegranate from the tree near the bench we sat upon. The red orb rested lightly in the palm of her hand, her glittering fingernails forming a cage around its perfection. "See how luscious it is," she whispered to me, "these trees were handpicked and properly cared for by a gardener who knows just how to grow this fruit as sweet as possible. Such perfection takes the most careful of handling by the finest of experts to command the highest price."

Thinking of Pycelle taking my virtue, I thought back over Alayaya's advice; ' _It is a stabbing feeling that makes you want to cry out in pain, but you must sigh instead and tell him how strong he is. You will bleed the first time, but only the first. After a few minutes of stabbing, it is soon over and if you're lucky, he will go to sleep._ ' I also recalled Dancy's words of warning; _'Above all else, you must smile and pretend you are enjoying it. If you want to please him, have patience and pretend he is a god. Do this well and it'll be some time before he seeks another_.'

* * *

Looking in the mirror, I was quite pleased with what I saw reflected. The white corset of my gown suited me well, enhancing the elusive tint of my eyes and the color allowing my thick black hair to be shown to it's best advantage. The fabric felt splendidly cool against my freshly bathed skin. I admired the edges of ribbon and lace. I felt poised and confident as I was led out of the house and into the courtyard with Chatyaya and Aron. After pleasantries were exchanged, Pycelle escorted me into a lavish carriage.

I had no idea where we were going, but I was nervous with the thought of laying with the elderly man across from me. We approached the Red Keep from the north. Awe overtook me as we rode through the worn gates and I marveled at the grandeur of the palace. It possessed a size, an elegance, an ornateness that left me breathless. It was a graceful structure with large arched windows to let in the rays from rising sun. The courtyard was filled with carriages of the wealthy and marble statuary. The main floor contained a loggia which overlooked the vast gardens; the crown had spared no expense. It gave my heart no ease to be led into this beautiful building, knowing it's reputation - even though Pycelle accompanied me.

"What you may be privileged to see or hear during this evening must never be discussed or repeated. It is a very great honor to be chosen by my lord. Such a young man has many secrets, important friends in the highest of places, and this brings the most dangerous enemies."

I was utterly relieved to hear his words and learn that I was not to lay with him that night. Although, curious and a bit frightened, I asked "Is there anything else you can tell me about your lord?"

"My lord?" A shadow passed over Pycelle's face at the mention. "Many believe him very handsome."

"I meant his personality."

"Ah. He is young, but very strong-willed." Again, I detected dislike. Even so, I pressed more about my patron, Pycelle scowled openly and said, "I must warn you. He is neither patient, nor particularly gentle. Do not speak unless he asks you to do so. Never question him. What he wishes you to know, he will tell you. You will obey and entertain when called upon. If you are all that he hopes for, my time will not have been wasted and your future will know no bounds. If you disappoint him, the consequences will be dire."

As we grew closer to the palace, we were met by a group of black-clad guards mounted upon steeds of black and brown. They questioned the men who escorted our carriage, but ceased their inquires when Pycelle made himself known.

When we assembled in the exterior garden, a guard led us out of the carriage, through the entrance hall and down a beautiful meandering. I'd never seen such elegant surroundings before. Every piece of wood trim gleamed; every plaster wall was perfect in its smoothness. Considering my nervousness, I found it not easy task to appear confident as I walked down the hallway of the Red Keep, the train of my gown pooled around my feet. We stopped in a corridor when we reached a man standing watch outside a pair of large crimson doors plated with an emblems of a golden lion and crowned black stag.

The man outside the door glared down at me from a tremendous height. His heavily-muscled body adorned with the armor of a knight, but with an olive-green cloak. The left side of his face was disfigured with burn scars. He was missing an ear, the craters in his face oozed red, and I tried my hardest not to stare at his unseemliness. After a few words were exchanged with Pycelle, the guard opened the door and the first thing I noticed was a teenage boy sitting beside a roaring fire at his hearth. He turned and regarded me and Pycelle with a raised eyebrow before rising from his seat and approaching.

Pycelle bowed. "Your Grace," he spoke. "This is the girl."

I could see at once from the teenage boy's slightly slack-jawed reaction that I had made a favorable impression; the reverse was certainly true. Since being at Chatyaya's Pleasure House, I had passed my sixteenth nameday and I had heard Prince Joffrey was the same in years. He surpassed me in height by the breadth of a few hands. His hair was the same copper blonde that the Lannister's were famous for. He wore a plain evening robe instead of his court finery, but I thought he still looked royal in the firelight. It emphasized that refinement was in his blood, not in his fancy clothes.

"Oh," The young royal spoke, looking at me with his bright green eyes in a manner more appraising than friendly. "Yes, of course. Thank you, Grand Maester."

"As promised, she is quite lovely to look at. And a very graceful dancer, and very charming when entertaining guests. Everyone says so." The anxiety and need for approval was evident in Pycelle's tone.

"You are indeed the best-looking girl to be found for miles in any direction. But such charm is to be expected from any whore, tell me something surprising about yourself."

"Oh, Your Grace!" I put my hand to my heart as if were overcome, and bowed deeply. "I can read a little and converse in foreign languages." I waited for his reply, but when none came, I continued. "Also, I am untouched."

"A virgin whore," A cruel sneer graced his pouty lips as he boldly took my hand in his and kissed it. "Does this virgin whore have a name?"

"Blade of Asshai, Your Grace," I said, making another deep curtsy, ignoring he crude tongue.

"Of Asshai... Well, I am most pleased to have you here this evening." He smiled at me and then turned to Pycelle. "You may leave us now."

Pycelle bowed once and again, and again, and then scurried out of the room to quickly take his leave.

The prince silently circled around me - looking me up and down, grazing my shoulder, running a hand through my hair. This continued on for a few moments before I grew uncomfortable. Then he paused in front of me, looking at me without any words. I thought he may have expected me to undress, because he gave me a strange look.

"Would you like me to undress for you, Your Grace?" I manged to ask at last.

"Certainly not," Joffrey quipped sharply. "You would do well to follow the instructions you are given."

I lowered my eyes towards the hardwood floors with unease; and in this same tense state, I instantly became aware of Joffrey's hand reaching to my face, guiding it up to look into his eyes. "Did I say you could look away? Resume your position."

I trembled with fear, but if the prince noticed it he made no mention of it. He stood before me staring into my eyes before he leaned in as if he were going to kiss me, but he only pushed my hair from one side and took in the scent of the perfume on my neck. His hair tickled my face and I could the smell wine and rosemary upon his breath... And then he reached around my back to loosen the ties of my corset.

I experienced a moment of excitement and alarm as he began to undress me. All my lessons, all my reading, all my teachings and practice - none of it had prepared me for reality. I must have made a noise as he struggled a long while with the tightly laced strings, because he shushed me. I thought of saying something about how I could help remove the corset, but then remembered that I was not to speak unless spoken to. Finally, he succeeded in untying my gown and he stepped back as the dress fell to a pile of silk and lace on the floor.

At the sight of my bare body, Joffrey's eyes grew round; for only a second, he stared at me with a naive lack of restraint. Then it was quickly replaced with a look of serious control as he spoke again, "Close your eyes." He curtly ordered me, and I did.

I felt his hand at my waist, caressing the indentation. His hair tickled my face once again as he inhaled the scent of my hair and the skin between my shoulder and neck. His soft fingers creeped from my midsection and up to the area right below my breast. My lip quivered with anticipation mixed with apprehension. I couldn't stop myself from letting out a soft whimper.

"Shush, little lamb," Joffrey whispered in my ear. I became very comfortable with his breath warming my neck. His hair stroked my cheek yet again, and it caused my head to flinch a little to the side. Swiftly, he brought his hand to my face, gripped my chin firmly, and forced my face upright again. "If you listen to me and do what I tell you to, you have nothing to fear from me."

Then his hands began to move with more desperation; from my face to my breast, then to my midsection, and finally my hips. I strained to keep my eyes closed as his fingers grazed between my thighs. He only wandered there a few seconds before speaking, "You may open your eyes now, little lamb."

Naked, with my eyes open, Joffrey led me towards his large four-poster bed. I watched as he pulled back the blankets and furs for me, and then gestured for me to lie down. He waited as I clumsily made my way into his featherbed and then he drew the covers back up, tucking me in only so far as my waist. His gaze flickered over my full breast with a detachment that made me hold back a shudder.

As Joffrey removed his robe and climbed into bed beside me, he gave a cold little smile. I wanted desperately to turn my face away and pull the blankets around me, but the intensity of his stare left me wooden, unable to move. He broke the silence with a lecherous laugh and then uttered his next words with sincerity, "Your docileness is quite luring. Forgive me if I hurt you."

Energetically, Joffrey rolled towards me and forced my legs apart as he climbed atop me. Like me, he was slender, but when he pressed his pursed lips to my neck, he still attempted to shield me from his weight. As his teeth bit on my earlobe, I felt his male member poke hard against the inside of my thigh. Fighting to ignore the urge to return his kisses or caress his skin, I wanted so desperately to respond to the passion with which he pressed his lean frame against mine. As if he could read my mind, his skilled fingers slipped between my legs and rubbed the spot that left me quite euphoric. This he did until I was brought to a spasm of most astounding bliss; the feelings I often had from Jayde's touch were pale in comparison to what I felt that night with Joffrey.

"Did that make my little lamb happy?" He asked, in a deep, clear voice as he looked down upon me, his face mere inches from mine.

I nodded my head eagerly and he continued to fondle me until I peaked several times. At last, he interested himself and penetrated me; prepared, I felt none of the pain that the other girl's had warned me of. I only felt enjoyment as he thrust inside of me, each stoke as violent as the last. No pain - even when his scratches broke the skin on my breast, or when his teeth left bruises on my shoulder, or when he struck me hard across the face for my loud gasps of pleasure. I no longer felt nervous, embarrassed, or ashamed; indeed, I decided that his touch was one of the greatest delights I had ever experienced in my life.

Once he emptied himself inside me, he rolled off of me, but took care afterwards to cover my nakedness with one of his furs. He laid on his back, his breath heavy as he stared up towards the ceiling. I turned onto my side to admire him. "Yes," He began to ask, in an agitated tone, "What is it you want?"

"Your Grace," I whispered timidly. "I would like to kiss you."

"Very well!" He laughed, gesturing me to come closer with a single finger. I obeyed, moving slowly towards him and then I I kissed him - softly, with tender passion, as Jayde had once kissed me. His tongue returned my curiosity and I closed my eyes as I ran my hands over his bare chest and then down between his thighs. He shivered and let out a slight moan when I caressed his maleness, just as I had been taught; soon he was firm enough to mount me again. He climbed atop me again, but after only a few minutes, the muscles of his legs stiffened; with a sensual roar, he reared his torso backwards and looked down at me with sultry eyes as I felt the warmth of his seed inside me again. He collapsed atop me, short of breath.

For a long moment, Joffrey lay atop me, both our bodies warm and utterly moist from the ecstasy. Silently, he began to tenderly pet my hair. I did nothing, for after all, I was supposed to obey him and do only as I was told. And then, he pushed my hair behind my ear, he held me to him like I were a child, and whispered fondly, "You are so beautiful. They described you to me, but words cannot do you justice. You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen."

"Thank you, Your Grace." I replied softly.

He raised himself slightly, to look upon the scratch marks and bruises on my skin. "I'm sorry," he said, with a sudden vehemence. "I'm so sorry... I-I-" Quite abruptly, he pulled up and away, leaving me with the startling sensation of his male organ sliding out of me altogether. Soon I was alone in the room.

After he had been gone for more than several minutes, I slowly got up from the damp sheets and knelt on the floor to gather up my dress. I attempted to dress myself as best I could, but my hands trembled behind me with the lacing of my corset. Until I had help, there was no use in trying to lace my gown. I made my way across the room to a golden mirror on the wall, looking at the smeared makeup on my face.

Not much later, Joffey returned. He helped me dress without a word and I began to feel a terrible sense of failure. He pulled on the laces intentionally hard, putting so much pressure on my rib cage that I struggled to even breathe. I knew I wasn't supposed to and shouldn't have cried in front of the prince, but I couldn't help it. He hadn't looked me in the eye since he returned, even when I began to cry. He simply pretended not to notice. Then he led me to the door, opened it for me and retreated back to his chambers without speaking a word.

The guard with the scarred face held out a cloak of fine silver fur to me. I did not take it, I did not even acknowledge him. I was overcome with dread. The guard instinctively wrapped the cloak around my bare shoulders and then escorted me through the halls and outside to a carriage. I cried quietly on the way back to the Street of Silk. I was no longer crying about what had happened with Joffrey. Something much more important was on my mind - namely, how someone with Joffrey's influence could ruin my reputation with a single poor review of my services. Despite his reputation, the prince had not been too unkind to me, even showing me a consideration as a man might show to his favorite whore, and in truth, it had not been difficult to be with him. I had tried hard to give him no reason for complaint, but I was certain he was unhappy with me despite my efforts.


	14. Chapter 14

The next morning, Alayaya and Dancy burst into my bedchamber. "Get up, get up, Blade! This is so exciting! The prince himself has sent you a bouquet of flowers and an invitation to join him in his chambers tonight for a private chamber recital and wine. Prince Joffrey Baratheon! Oh, there's also a poem. Oh, Blade! It's all so exciting!"

"The prince sent you flowers?" Jayde asked, a smile beaming wide. "It's like a fairy-tale!"

Despite my sense of failure the prior evening, I smiled to myself. I thought of Joffrey's strong hands moving over my body; I thought of how he hand mounted me, how I had grasped his powerful back the second time he rode me, then brought me to pleasure. Also, I thought that being seen with Joffrey would position me nicely for numerous opportunities. I quickly threw on my robe and made my way downstairs to examine the tokens myself.

On the table in the entrance-way was a beautiful arrangement of exotic flowers, surely imported at great cost. While the flowers were exquisite, it showed all the signs of being the work of the same florist who provided decorations in the palace. Joffrey may have instructed the arrangement be sent to me, but he certainly did no more than that. I grabbed the piece of fine paper next to the bouquet, his handwriting was elegant and proper, as it should be:

 _Awake my lamb._

 _Be kind to your sleeping heart._

 _Awake into the vast sunshine and let it breathe._

The poem itself pleased me - it was the thought and the words that made me smile. I instructed one of the servants to send a message to Joffrey that I was accepting his invitation. As I turned to head back up the stairs, Chataya caught me and Dancy in the hallway. "My two lovely girls," She beamed at us. "The king himself is intrigued by Dancy, and the prince interested enough to reach out to Blade again. Surely we shall see how deep these interests run. You two will see no other patrons at the moment."

* * *

Joffrey smiled as I approached in his suite, regarding me with unapologetic interest. "Ah, Blade, I am so glad you joined us again."

Earlier, not many days ago, I had thought myself in love with Petyr Baelish. But that affection had been fabricated by Petyr's kindness to me as a child and unrealistic fantasies. And now I was utterly lost. The sensation that seized me while I was in the presence of the prince was swift, irrevocable, and violent, like a dagger plunged into my heart. I trembled, I felt my cheeks flush hot; I looked away from Joffrey, my smile grown tremendous.

Three men performed a varied repertoire of melodies from a fiddle, flute and harpsichord. Holding his hand out to me, I took it and Joffrey led me over to a table situated on the balcony outside his chambers.

Joffrey chattered to me almost continuously throughout the night. He discussed music, his love of dance, his interests in military strategy, dragonlore, the events of the day, and virtually everything else under the sun. That's not to say that he didn't listen; he was surprisingly solicitous of my opinions, engaging me to speak several times.

As the ruby inlaid goblets of wine emptied, he drew ever closer to me. It was not long until Joffrey was embracing me passionately. Heavy with drink, he kissed my neck enthusiastically, although with less finesse than the previous evening. His embrace became ever more intense, my carefully arranged dress became increasingly disarrayed.

When his hand met with one of the marks his teeth had left upon my neck just last night, I winced in pain as his fingers grazed over the open wound. "My lamb, did I hurt you?" He asked and his concern was urgent.

I shook my head.

"I implore your forgiveness." He extended both his hands to couple my face in his palms. He looked troubled, yet highly controlled. "With your indulgence, I would like to make it up to you. Are quite certain you're unhurt?"

In truth, I cared not so much about my injuries as I did about what Joffrey thought of me. I replied, "It's nothing to concern yourself with."

"Truly, it is not." He spoke somberly, my face still cradled in his hands. "But I left marks, nonetheless." He regarded me again with that intense, dark-eyed stare that left me uncomfortable and thrilled at the same time, then he smiled very faintly. "I'm easily prone to being hedonistic and cruel."

I listened to him tell me about his sadistic fantasies, nodding, straining to keep my focus on his words and not on the movement of his lips. I felt my lap growing warmer and moist, as though my insides were melting and spreading outward into a pool. My sensations and urges must have revealed themselves in my expression, for a look of fiendish mischief came over him. I was aroused by his manner; I leaned closer into his embrace, like a cat seeking a caress.

At once, he pulled his hands back as if I were flame. He whispered callously, "You filthy little whore." Then he slapped me across the cheek, a little bit more mildly than he had the night before. "I will not tolerate such lewd behavior."

"I'm sorry," I spoke, fighting to keep my low voice from shaking. "Your Grace."

"You will not speak unless spoken to." He struck me again, even more lightly than the last, but still not any less shocking to me. "Do you understand me?"

"No, you'll have to help me understand." I flushed, startled by my own words, by their defiance. Yet I did not regret my words. When I saw the anger and amusement rise together in his gaze, he swiftly took my neck in a single hand and lightly choked me.

"You are not-" he stammered with rage, then began again, "Since when did you think you could-" And without forming a single comprehensible sentence, he fell silent. Which of us initiated the kiss, I could not remember. I kissed him repeatedly as he pulled hard on my hair, as if he were trying to stop my efforts. Then, he pushed his body against mine, and bit hard on my lower lip with his teeth. He caught hold of my free hand and encircled my wrist and squeezed with great might. I let out a small yelp of pain.

"When are you allowed to speak?" He breathed heavily, putting even more pressure on my wrist.

"When spoken to." I said, trembling with arousal. I gestured with my eyes towards the bed. Joffrey's eyes widened - at first with viciousness and then with excitement. He let go of my wrist and nodded towards his suite inside. I moved past him on the balcony, unable to mask my lust, scurried over and then dropped down onto the bed.

Joffrey followed - though he moved slowly with an evil sneer. He closed the doors to the balcony behind him, blocking the moonlight so that the room glowed only with the candlelight of many gold sconces. Then he dismissed the musicians and servants. When he reached the bed, he grinned openly, apparently delighted with my playfulness. With an utter lack of decorum, I parted my legs open.

"Not yet," He commanded. "You will get on your knees and you will beg."

Once again, he roused excitement in me. As he stood there waiting for me to obey, I slid off of the bed and knelt in front of him on my knees. He stared down at me with appreciation and authority. "Your Grace," I whispered, looking up at him innocently, "Would you please take me to your bed?"

But he still would not let me. He made me wait, made me demand, made me beg and plead until I was on the verge of tears. Only when I thought I might really weep did he at last oblige me. He held out a hand to me, to help me to my feet. I took his outstretched hand and with one brisk motion, he pulled me up and threw me so that I lay flat on my stomach over the edge of the bed. He laughed slightly as he hiked up the hem of dress until it was at my waist, exposing my bare backside to him.

And he rode me - with a fervent appetite that not many women have the luck to experience in their lifetimes. He did not even dare try to stop my screams of delight. I attempted to push back against his thrusts, but he quickly wrapped all my tresses around a single hand and pulled back as if they were reigns, keeping my neck craned in a painful stance. As if he could sense my discomfort, his hold on my hair loosened slightly. Still inside me, he leaned over me and rested his weight on my back, whispering "Patience, little lamb..."

Once again, he instructed me to beg. He would move not an inch or give me any more pleasure, until I groveled. He tore himself away from me and demanded I cry. So I pleaded for more, tears streaming down my cheek. When I could bear no more, he mounted me in the midst of my cries and rewarded me with tender strokes, as if I were fragile and delicate. He laughed - dignified Joffrey, always in control.


	15. Chapter 15

Dancy approached me as I strolled around the courtyard, a jovial smile on her freckled face. Chataya was with her, and she looked equally pleased. "I wanted to congratulate you, my dear Blade, on your continuing success with the prince," Said Chataya. "From what I see on your body and what I have heard whispered from our little doves, Prince Joffrey thinks of nothing else but you. You have done it my girl, and we have already begun to reap the benefits!" She exclaimed happily, holding out to me a rather large velvet purse that clinked with coins.

"Thank you, Mistress," I replied, taking the heavy bag into my small hands.

"Just like Dancy and her excursions with the king, you must still be careful. Both the prince and king have been this taken with young women before, and both men tire of them in time. But Blade, you must be especially careful." She said heedfully eyeing the fresh bruises and wounds on my chest. I knew at once what she meant. "We must hope, that he will simply put you aside before his desires amplify." Her words of warning stirred in me emotions of elation and concern. When she was satisfied that my expression was one of understanding, she clapped her hands together with glee. "Until then, you must encourage him to bestow coin and gifts upon you. That's one of the benefits of royal patrons!" She smiled.

After Chataya's lecture, Dancy interlocked her arm with mine gently, careful not to touch any of my bruises, and she began speaking to me in hushed whispers as we strolled around the pomegranate tree. "Have you been drinking your moon tea?"

"Yes," I replied quickly, matching her hushed whisper. "Of course. The witch adds too much wormword lately. I can hardly stomach it."

Dancy giggled, "I wouldn't know." And then she affectionly rubbed her flat stomach.

"No!" I replied in disbelief.

"Better to have a royal bastard than none at all." She winked at me, before skipping off back to the house, leaving me suddenly worried. I immediately dashed towards the house and into the kitchen and opened the cupboard with tonics. I struggled a little lifting the large jug of tansy tea out of the cabinet with my injured limbs, but I eventually succeeded. I did not bother with a glass; I raised the neck of the large ceramic pitcher straight to my lips and smiled in relief when the flavors of mint, wormwood and honey hit my tongue.

* * *

As it turned out, Joffrey didn't tire of me that week, and we continued to receive requests from the Red Keep nearly every week afterward over the following months. From that point on, time seemed to move faster than it ever had before. Within only three months, Joffrey had granted me enough favors that soon enough my wardrobe resembled that of any young royal of the court: velvet and silk gowns, posh shoes, sublime scarves, fine hoses and garters, and exotic trinkets.

One warm evening, Joffrey sat contentedly by the open window in his chambers while I read aloud to him from _The Red Book -_ I had picked it out specifically for him. You see, the prince did not particularly enjoy stories, but this novel detailed the history of the fighting pits in Meereen. He must have been pleased with my choice in reading material, because after a few handfuls of pages, he stopped me mid-sentence and walked over to a small box at his bedside table, then he commanded me to follow him.

"Now close your eyes," He smiled at me playfully once I was in front of him and I lowered my lids. I heard the click of the box open. The excitement inside me was so thick, it was almost palpable. I also felt frightened of what could be in that box; _would tonight be the night he'd take his affections too far_? I feared for my life. The cloud of excitement and tension hung in the air for only a few moments. Then, I felt him fasten something cold and heavy around my neck. It fit so snugly that it gave me the very faint sensation that I was being choked. I wanted to reach up and touch it, or open my eyes and see it, but I dared not disobey him.

"You look like a princess tonight," he murmured lovingly as he led me, eyes still closed, across the room. "The world's most beautiful princess, with the world's most exquisite eyes. They even make sapphires look common. Now," He paused for added suspense, "open your eyes."

When I opened my eyes I was met with my own reflection and at my neck gleamed a work of art; woven textured gold wires were accented by fan-shaped sapphire-set stations. I gazed wistfully at the ornament around my neck. This was first piece of jewelry anyone gifted to me.

Seeing the tremendous smile upon my face, Joffrey picked me up into his arms and moved me slowly around the room as carefully as a mother tending to a baby. "I like to see you smile, little lamb," He said with a theatrical sigh, placing me gently on the divan near the window. "I consider it an honor to ensure your happiness."

I looked down into his eyes as he knelt beside me and I began to cry for it was loveliest thing anyone had ever given me, "You are too kind, Your Grace." For a moment, Petyr floated through my mind at the word _kindness_. But what I felt for Joffrey was so powerful that my thoughts of Lord Baelish easily drifted away. I spoke in between tears, feeling the woven gold with my fingertips, "I've never owned a necklace."

"Necklace?" He laughed, shaking his head. His demeanor shifted suddenly. From his jacket pocket, he retrieved a long golden chain with a small lock on the end. He fastened the clasp of the chain to the metal wiring around my neck. "You pretty little fool." He scoffed, pulling on the chain so considerably that I was thrown from the divan. From the floor, I gaped up at him. "Little lamb, this is a collar."

* * *

I felt overwhelmed each time I recalled Joffrey's fierce touch. I could not suppress my smiles or my fears. I no longer felt concern over where my destiny would take me or how I wanted my future to unfold. I cared not when Petyr noticed me move about the Red Keep at night; so long as I had Joffrey, my joy was complete. All my thoughts, my emotions, my motives were focused blithely on the Prince.

This had been our unhurried routine for several months; I would cater to and know no other man but Joffrey. I so delighted in all our acts together, and so often begged for his brutal caress, the prince would laugh and call me insatiable. Sometimes I would use Jayde's teachings and manipulated his body through massage. I learned that I could influence his energy levels to use to my advantage; when my flesh could take no beating that night, I would apply so much pressure, that it eventually caused the young prince to slumber; when I craved his vicious affection, my fingertips were light and gentle.

Once, we had sipped entirely too much sweet plum wine and found ourselves dancing in the gardens well past midnight. We fell into a duo of laughter, carefree and full of glee like children, as Joffrey swept me across the gardens to a melody only imagined in our minds. Then we found ourselves near one of the fountains. As he dragged me to frolic across the water, I did not protest; rather, I returned his gestures by playfully kicking splashes water towards him. It wasn't long before the Hound put a halt to our fun and he escorted Joffrey to bed. That had been the first time I had spent with Joffrey outside of his suites in the Red Keep and that fun-filled evening would forever hold a special place in my heart.

Another evening, I watched as he drew thick plums of smoke deep into his lungs; inside his bejeweled pipe was a mixture of poppy leaves and dreamwire. The seductive perfume of the curling smoke trickled from his nostrils and he quickly fell into a languid state on the bed.

"Oh, Joffrey," I wrapped my arms around him, holding his head to my chest like the child he still was, and began stroking his soft blond hair. It was the first and only time I ever saw him so vulnerable. It would also be the only time I was ever allowed to show him such affection.

"No-no, stooo -no," With his slurred words, he insisted for me to remove my embrace. His eyes filled with mortified tears.

"Hush," I cooed, as he tried to pull up and away weakly. I whispered in his ear, as his breathing began to slow and his eyelids fell, "Sleep, sweet prince."

Some two hours later, when Joffrey opened his eyes, I was ready with a small towel dampened with cool water and lavender oil. He was still drowsy, but he allowed me to apply the moist cloth to his face. When he was well enough to prop himself up on his elbows, I called for the servants and requested his favorite dessert, strawberry pie. While he ate, I ran him a bath. Often, we would share the intimate pleasures of the bath together, but that night he had requested to bathe alone.

"A gift for your services," He said, laying a few silver stags in the palm of my hand. There were so few coins, I hardly felt their weight. It was the lowest sum he had ever given me; I felt confused and insulted. It must have showed on my face, because he quipped at me "Now leave me, whore." Then he turned away from me and towards the marbled bath, reminding who and what I was to him.

As I made my way through the halls of the Red Keep alone, I spotted a shadowy figure out of the corner of my eye.

"Good evening, my lady." A familiar voice spoke. From the shadows, Petyr appeared. Over these many months, I had seen him quite frequently about the castle, but he had never approached or spoke to me before. All my life, it seemed he had a way of appearing during my hour of need. He approached me and began to walk with me, escorting me through the hallways towards the carriage in the courtyard, keeping a distance the entire time. After few moments of silence, he finally spoke, "You're truly fond of him?"

I let out a sorrowful laugh before replying, "Fool that I am, perhaps I even love him.

"Then you have three choices; endure, embrace or suffer."

"Oh, how optimistic of you." I sighed, "You have loved before, Lord Baelish?"

His response was quick with no hesitation. "Yes and I love her still, but she is married."

I felt a tinge of jealousy at his words, even if my heart gravitated towards Joffrey, I couldn't deny that I still felt _something_ for Petyr. "Ah, so she makes you suffer as well."

"Perhaps." He looked towards me with a melancholy smile as we reached the courtyard. "I always thought if she were free of her spouse, she would be mine."

"So it would seem that we share a similar downfall," I said as Petyr helped me into the carriage. "Impossible loves."

"In my world anything is possible, Lady Blade." He said, before suddenly grabbing my hand and raising it to his lips to place a gentle kiss upon the top of my wrist. "I hope you enjoy your evening."


	16. Chapter 16

The requests from the Red Keep for my company suddenly ceased. I had heard no news from Joffrey for two weeks. Chataya had attempted to comfort me at first, but after a few days, she informed me that I would need to seek out new patrons.

Distraught that I had not only lost the prince, but spoiled a vast source of income, that night I wandered from the Streek of Silk and out into the chilly streets. I found myself dazed, aimlessly drifting through the winding street and small alleys. My mind was once again on my future - or rather, my lack of one. Then, I thought of Dancy's future, as she had been carrying King Robert's royal bastard in her womb for several months now. Like me, her invitations from the Red Keep had halted as her belly grew. Although her baby would bear the name Waters instead of Baratheon, she comforted herself with the sense that this baby would give her some degree of physical security.

Still lost in my thoughts, I turned a corner near the Street of Sisters and found myself in a quiet, dark cul-de-sac. I also found that I was not alone. There stood Mikael, dressed in the yellow woolen cloak of the City Watch. He had begun to grow a bread since I had last seen him some three years ago and his hair seemed more copper than blond now, but I recognized him immediately.

He regarded me, wearing that sinister smirk I remembered from childhood. "So," He spoke, his tone faintly gloating and his black mail armor clinked as he approached. "Of all the wenches I expected to find. This is quite a pleasant surprise."

"Quite a coincidence." I answered mockingly. My body felt the instinctual urge to flee, but I was cornered with nowhere to run.

I watched, as I had as a child, as Mikael's expression hardened. He still towered over me greatly and seemed to have grown even stronger over the years. I imagined the girth of his massive muscles underneath the black armor. "Did I not warn you that his day would come?" He asked, in a tone that made me glance around to see whether help was within earshot. "Tell me, Blade," he took a step closer, which caused me retreat a step. "What was it that you always told me?"

"That you would _never_ touch me." I put special emphasis on the word.

"And yet, here we are?" He spread his large hands, questioning mockingly. The corners of his mouth turned upward; he moved more swiftly than I expected and hit my jaw full force with his fist, knocking me backwards into the wall of a brick-stone store. I sank to the street, slumped up against the wall. "Cunt," he spat at me, "What I've always wanted, I shall have tonight."

Before I could regain my balance, Mikael was upon me. I flailed, but he seized me easily with a single arm, pulled me up off the street and slammed me back down into the gravel. Filling my lungs with air, I screamed desperately for help, praying that someone was near enough to hear me or hoping that the scream would deter him enough to flee. I felt such relief when he took a few steps back, but my relief was short-lived for the bright spark of hatred returned to his eyes.

"Crist!" He called a name hoarsely.

In the distance I could hear another set of armor clinking and another member of the City Watch appeared in the cul-de-sac. I recognized the dark-haired, hawk-nosed man whose face appeared. Crist was the same in height as Mikael and one of the most feared men on the streets of King's Landing. His expression was one of appreciation and I panicked truly then.

I pushed myself to a sitting position and prepared to swing my small fists wildly. Both men laughed at the sight. Deftly, Crist pushed me back down and clutched my wrists so hard that I felt he may break my bones. He crouched down near my face to plant a kiss on my cheek before pinning my wrists above my head. I continued to scream, kicking and thrashing my legs with all my might.

All the while, Mikael loomed over me, triumphant as he unlaced his trousers. "You can keep screaming," He laughed happily, "I will ride you all the same."

I may have been defeated, but I did not make it easy for him either. To keep my legs from thrashing about, Mikael had to use his full weight to keep me pinned. Because I was so much smaller, it took a great deal of effort for me to continue to try to fight back. Even so, the two men were immensely stronger than me and Mikael succeeded in forcing my legs apart. He dug his nails deep into the flesh on my scalp, and I shrieked out in agony as the blood trickled down my skull. I tried to focus my mind on the times that Joffrey had caused me an equal amount of physical pain, but his torture was indescribably sweeter.

Then he thrust himself inside me with a barbarity I was not unfamiliar with, still I cried out with anguish. As Crist gripped my arms, as the other continued to hammer against me. Mikael chuckled and leered as the gravel at my back tore into my skin. The attack continued for what seemed an eternity and I no longer fought back. Sensing my surrender excited my assailant and after spitting straight on my face, he withdrew from me and spilled his seed out onto my fine gown.

"Take her if you want her," Mikael spoke to his companion as he refastened his trouser. He shouted behind him as he sauntered away, "But she's just like any other whore!"

"Touch me," I whispered, "And I swear, Prince Joffrey will have your head."

"Forgive me," Crist replied sincerely. To my surprise, he quickly released his grip on my wrists and gently helped me rise and collect myself. I attempted to take a step, but my legs would not stop shaking. Pain and anger so overwhelmed me, I nearly fainted and would have collapsed to the ground if Crist's arms wouldn't have caught me. "I beg your forgiveness, had I known-"

"You wouldn't have aided the brute?" I scoffed, still in the man's arms.

The next thing I knew it was pitch-black. I was carried back to the Street of Silk and when I awoke, I allowed Jayde to bathe me. As she moved the sponge across my skin, I began to shake with a violence so intense that I feared it might kill me. Chataya called for a maester, who treated the worst of my wounds with boiled wine and a poultice of mustard seeds, nettles, and bread mold. I spent the rest of the evening weeping in the haze of the poppy.

* * *

For a single day and night, I lay comatose in my bed. When the other girl's took their meals in the courtyard, I didn't join them. When Alayaya came to share gossip about a murder at the Red Keep, I did not listen. Several times, Aron brought trays of fruit, but I did not eat. The sun began to rise on the second morning since my assault, and when I refused the food, Chataya burst into my room. Frustrated, she raised my head and forced a slice of pear into my mouth. "You will eat!" she said angrily.

Then, she had decided that since my wounds had healed enough, that I would be meeting with a new client that evening. Apparently, he was one of the younger knights in King Robert's Kingsguard. I lightly protested, but with Dancy's pregnant belly too large to conceal any longer, she explained that she would not have two leeches under her roof living off her generosity. "If you don't want to be thrown out into the street, you will work." She chided before storming out of the room.

"Ser Arys is a fine man." Jayde smoothed my hair from my brow, attempting to console me as I lay still in bed. "He's courteous and cordial." When I did not respond, she continued, "And he's rather handsome."

I sighed, "I don't care."

After I gathered the strength to rise from bed, I spent several minutes at the window gazing down at the morning dew upon the grass in the courtyard and listening to the birds begin their song. Then, putting on a simple dress of yellow, I silently left the manse without wearing my exotic perfume, applying my intricate make up, or even brushing my hair.

The streets were not yet lively and the sun was not high enough to warm the breeze. I headed towards the Iron Gate to the north. The guards of the City Watch paid me no mind as I approached the huge rusted gate. Yet, not wanting to attract attention, I turned right down an alley and followed the wall until there was small hole. I slipped inside and soon found myself at the cliffs overlooking Blackwater Bay.

I thought of the many terrible ways there were to die, and wondered which I could use to escape the pain. I peered down at water crashing against the cliff-side below. With one jump, there would be no more struggle, no more pain.

"I wouldn't do it, if I were you." A stranger's voice called out to me.

My back tensed. I had thought it too early for anyone to be at the cliff-side, but I spun around to face a tall, handsome man I had never seen before. The golden-haired man with green eyes wore yellow armor decorated with the Lannister lion and clock of crimson silk. With his broad shoulders, he looked more regal than any man I had ever laid eyes upon.

Sensing my apprehension, he took a slow step closer to me. "Have you seen the body of someone who's drowned?" he asked. "It swells to ten times its size and the skin turns black before it begins to peel away.

I answered by taking a step back, closer to the cliff's edge.

"Come now girl," he held out his hand to me, "Do you really want to end up as a bloated corpse that washes up on the shore?"

"Better a corpse than a cursed whore!" I cried and turned to face the cliff-side, but the man grabbed me quickly.


	17. Chapter 17

As I approached the Street of Silk on the back of Ser Jamie Lannister's white stallion, I regretted that I had not taken the time earlier to make my appearance presentable. Dozens of guards waited outside in the courtyard of Chataya's Pleasure House forming a circle around a horse-drawn carriage, their yellow standards emblazoned with the crowned stag.

Ser Jamie was the first to disembark his stead, then he held out his hand to help me down. Still weak from the assault a few nights ago, my legs suddenly gave way beneath me as my feet touched the ground.

"Now, don't faint on me." Jamie laughed, catching me in his arms.

"My lord," I began to ask, "what's happening?"

"What do you think?" The Kingslayer replied with a grin.

The door to the manse swung open and a very happy-looking Chataya appeared, gesturing quickly for my to come in. Jamie offered his arm to help support me and led the way up the steps to the house.

"Ser Jamie," Chataya said warmly. She looked at him with wide-eyed adoration. "Prince Joffrey is waiting for her upstairs." Then she took my arm from the knight eagerly and led me up the stairs towards my own room. Before proceeding down the hallway, she tried her best to adjust my dress and hair to cover my injuries, but it was of no use.

The door to my room was ajar and light peaked into the hallway. Across from door stood Sandor Clegane, Joffrey's bodyguard. Chataya ushered me down the corridor and I pushed open the door slowly. There, I found the prince in my room examining my belongings.

Upon seeing me he smiled and then laughed, "So, this is where you live? In these slums, among the the common people."

I nodded. "I am one of them."

"It doesn't suit you." He shook his head disapprovingly, "We'll have to fix that. Which is exactly why I'm here today." He said, holding out his hand towards me, gesturing for me to cross the room towards him. "Well, close the door and come on. I haven't all day."

Although he may not have noticed my wounds from the distance, I worried that he would see them if I went any closer. I hesitated; I wasn't sure that I should tell him of Mikael's assault. I feared Joffrey might lose his head and react with violence towards me, which I couldn't handle in that moment. But I also longed to take his hand, for I missed him.

"Blade," He commanded, "here."

I attempted to shake my head, but was unsure if I actually did.

"Now!" Joffrey spoke again. When I still stood unmoving, he crossed the room swiftly and grabbed me by my arms. I shrieked at the sting his hands had caused on my flesh. He looked on me with unspeakable disgust, and for a time said nothing. Then, he pushed my hair to the side and begin examining my various abrasions. He slammed the door shut behind me and dragged me into the sunlight beginning to break in through the window. "I did not do this," the anger rising in his voice as he began to undress me to inspect me better. "Who has _violated_ you?"

In an instant, I stood before him naked. He grasped my wrists where Crist held me down, rotating them slowly to better show the yellowing bruises. Then he turned me and revealed my back which still bore numerous scratches from the graveled road. Next, he knelt in front of me, parting my legs to reveal dark bruises on my inner thighs. And lastly, he stood glaring at me in silence. For several moments, I was speechless - too wounded to know how to deal with any of this. I shook back and forth, tears spilling from my eyes.

"What vile snake has touched you?" His voice much louder, he hissed. "Seven hells! I care not about your trauma, if you do not answer me, I will strike you even fiercer than he did!"

"It was a man," I whispered.

"Do I look like I ask you in jest?" He quickly retorted. When I did not respond again, he raised his hand to slap me, with a severity I had never beheld in his eyes before - but his open hand hesitated. I fell to my knees with fear. Joffrey quickly rushed to my side and embraced me at once. "Little lamb," His words contained true passion and sorrow as he whispered in my ear, "Forgive me, for allowing this to happen to you. I beg of you, please tell me the fiend's name."

I nodded my head sadly, "Mikael."

I felt his body stiffen at the sound of the name, and then he asked "And how do you know him?"

"I grew up with his family in Flea Bottom." I paused, "He's in the City Watch. He and another guard called Crist assaulted me in the street several nights ago."

Joffrey became outraged. There was a sharp twisting in my stomach. He paced back and forth in the room, spouting insults and swearing vengeance against both men. All I wanted from Joffrey was reassurance that I was forever protected from Mikael's touch. Instead, he swore to spill blood with a vehemence that was frightening. "You are mine," He shouted, "and when they dishonor you, they dishonor me!"

Suddenly, Joffrey stopped his pacing and knelt on the floor in front of me. He cradled my face in his palms, careful to not put much pressure on my bruised jaw. "Many events have occured in the palace as of late. I have to accompany my father to Winterfell, but before I take my leave, I will strangle those guards with my bare hands. And when I return, I will find you a position at court, so that I can keep you close."

His tone was so gentle and full of concern that my tears of sadness were replaced with joy. Then I realized what he had just done; offered me a position in the Red Keep. "At Court?"

"Yes," he said firmly. "You can't very well continue living in these conditions. I'll find you something as a maidservant or a laundress, or something of that sort."

I drew back. We stared at each other and I tried to determine what I felt about this. Finally, I asked, "You would see me as a maid." I paused momentarily, but not long enough for him to reply. "You would see me emptying chamber pots and scrubbing soiled linens."

"No, of course not." He replied "I will find something else for you."

With the way events had unfolded today, I had come to see that Joffrey cared much more deeply for me than I had previously thought. This gave me a small sense of power - without it, I wouldn't have ever dared question Joffrey in the manner I was. "Such as?" I demanded crossly.

Joffrey immediately removed his hands from my face and looked at me with disbelief. "Well, let's just present you to my father and mother as my newly crowned princess, shall we?" He said mockingly, shaking his head with dismissal.

"We must find a way to accommodate our affections." I said, forcing my eyes to be pleading and full of love. "Can I never be yours?"

"You _are_ mine _,_ in spirit and in flesh," He began, "But never officially and never in public. It would be unthinkable."

I knew I would never be a princess. I would never be Joffrey's betrothed. Our children would never be heirs to the Ironthrone. However, I could one day become something even more formidable than that, someone that could hold more favor than any other position. Throughout the history of the known world, there have been many instances where the mistress to a monarch held considerable political power. In Essos, powerful mistresses were sometimes referred to as the 'power behind the throne'.

I stared straight at him, "If you wish to keep me close to you, then take me as your royal mistress. Heir apparents' haven claimed mistresses long before their accessions to the throne. Even princes in Dorn place their paramours in high regard" I suggested, thankful that Chataya's forced history lessons were finally something I could use to my advantage. "And you're the heir to the throne! You can do as you please."

He raised his brows, "There will be objections"

"In life, there always are."

"I'm surprised by the complexity of your thinking." He looked away from me and blushed for the first time I had ever seen, then he laughed. When he looked back towards me, his eyes were full of appreciation. "My father has yet to perish and here you are crowning me King."

"Yes," I said eagerly, "you will be King. It is your destiny." I crawled across the floor to be closer to him, and then I rested my head on his shoulder. "It is fated."

He placed a hand atop my head, pulling me in closer and kissing the top of my forehead. "When I am king, you will be at my side." He swore.


	18. Chapter 18

Ser Jamie Lannister and the Sandor Clegane sat in the shadows waiting... waiting for the right moment to strike. They had been following Mikael's patrol squad for a few hours now, waiting until they could catch Mikael alone for even a few seconds. It didn't seem like it was going to happen, and that the pair would have to complete their order in public, with two other City Watch guards as casualties.

Sandor rose from the shadows and drove a sword right through the chest of one of the innocent guards. Jamie followed, sliding a dagger across the other unsuspecting guard's throat. Before Mikael could even draw his blade, Sandor had his neck in a fierce grip, rising the large guard a foot clear off the ground.

"Show some restraint, dog." Jamie murmured, "He wants this man alive."

The Hound countered, tightening his hand's around Mikael's throat. "Killing him now would be easier, my lord."

"But some things should not be easy."

* * *

Mikael's eyes fluttered open tiredly, his head heavy and dizzy. He tried to get up, but found that his arms were restricted. "What the-" he stuttered, looking down he saw that he was strapped to a chair in the middle of a poorly lit room.

As his eyesight became more clear, he saw that beside him was a wooden table decorated with hammers, knifes, restraints and other tools of torture. "Fuck," he muttered to himself quietly. Then, he looked to his other side and found Crist bound to a chair beside him.

"I must protest against this outrage!" Crist yelled out to several shadowy figures across the room. "We are members of the City Watch!"

Mikael joined in his friend's the protest, "When Commander Slynt hears we were beaten, bound, and taken here against our will-"

"Oh my, could this be true?" Joffrey asked mockingly, sarcasm dripping from his venemous voice as he turned to his bodyguard.

The Hound chuckled a little, "Um, they did prove somewhat unwilling, Your Grace."

"Your Grace?" Mikael asked, a look of a disbelief and shock upon his face.

Pycelle scoffed, "Yes, you address the Crowned Prince."

"Yes, yes - I am the prince, they are guards, you are the grand maester... Enough with the formalities." Joffrey waved his hand dismissively at Pycelle before turning to address the two guards. "What matters is that you're here now. That's the main thing, is it not?"

Mikael replied, "And, why, may I ask, are we here, my lord?"

"Shit," Crist spouted, trying to choke back his fear.

"Ah, I see he's figured it out." Joffrey laughed, stooping down so he was at level with Crist's fear filled eyes. Then, he stood and circled around to the other guard. Again he stooped down so he was eye-to-eye with Mikael. He patted his face gently, "Why, to discuss the incident that occured between you two fine gentleman and my beloved several nights ago, of course."

"Incident, my lord?" Mikael asked, genuinely confused.

"The girl..." Crist whispered gravely.

"Yes, and the girl has a name," Joffrey turned his attention towards Crist. "Pray tell, what is her name?"

"I know not, my liege." Crist replied quickly.

"Perhaps, this gent knows." Joffrey spoke, the tone in his voice becoming increasingly wicked as he turned to face Mikael again. "My sweetheart, what is her name?"

"I don't know, my lord." Mikael replied, lowering his head afterwards.

"Oh, but you do." Joffrey said, placing a hand underneath Mikael's wide jaw, forcing his head up to look him in the eyes. "Care to take a guess?"

"Blade."

"That's right!" Joffrey exclaimed, clapping his hands together in faux delight. "And this incident with my lady, I am told, was far from happy. So you can only imagine my disappointment."

"My lord," Crist began to plead. "Had I known, I would not have-"

"Ah, but that matters little now, does it?" Joffrey spoke, an absolutely nefarious smile on his face.

"We are citizens," Mikael began to shout, "And members of the City Watch! We are entitled to a fair trial! You will never get away with this! There are laws-"

Joffrey interrupted Mikael's roaring with his own thunderous laughter. "On the contrary, this is _my_ kingdom, this is _my_ law, and _my_ judgement on this matter is clear."


	19. Chapter 19

One morning I awoke and on a whim I decided to visit a woman just beyond Fishmonger's Square who was known for seeing the future. A witch, the people called her. Though a maegi, she garnered fear and a certain amount of respect. It was rumored often that she helped in evil acts. And on occasion, some good.

Flanked by two guards Joffrey had hired for my protection, I traveled by foot from the Street of Silk with Dancy. We joked about the act of love and laughed all the way, while passerby's pursed their lips at our scandalous talk.

I was so giddy with happiness. Though the date had not been set for me to take a position at Court, I was already dreaming of the days, of myself sitting at a feast for Joffrey, smiling beside him at a table surrounded by noble guests. This was all I required of the maegi - that she confirm my wishes, that she tell me if I would birth the future king's children, that she tell me about the lands, titles and properties I would own across all of Westeros.

We were still overcome with girlish giggling when we arrived at the maegi's house - a crumbling ruin of a house, past Fishmonger's Square just outside the River Gate. Chicken corpses hung strung out near the doorway and on the other side a sheep was tethered to a wooden beam. One of the guards announced our arrival, by shouting at the open front door of the shack.

From within the hobble, a woman' voice called. "She must come in alone."

Although an odd sense of dread had overtook me, I stepped upon the threshold of the shack, motioning for Dancy and the guards to stay back. I took a step forward, but try as I might, I could see nothing but shadows and darkness inside the doorway. There was a pricking sensation at the nape of my neck, but I turned to Dancy, "Wait here with the guards. I shall be right back."

Dancy's eyes narrowed in disapproval, but I ignored her.

Even though I had come to see the maegi expecting to hear pleasant fortunes about my future, somewhere deep down in my soul I knew that her offerings would not be good. I gathered the hem of my plum velvet skirt as best I could, drew a deep breath, and entered the witch's hobble.

A sense of nostalgia overtook me for it had been a very long time since I had steeped foot in a peasant's home. The ceiling was low, looking as if it might cave in several sections. The walls were crumbling and stained with filth. The floor was dirt, no tile or stone nor wood. There were no torches or candles, only the daylight that beamed in through the broken windows. In the center of the kitchen was a crude little table, two uncomfortable-looking stools and a pile of hay next to them. Standing in a shadowed corner near the table was a woman clad entirely in dirty brown robes, her face hidden by a hood. She was taller than me, standing almost as tall as a man.

"Sit," The magei commanded, her voice beautiful and melodious as she motioned for me towards the table.

I followed her command, too intimidated to speak as I sat upon the chair of flimsy beach-wood.

I had heard stories about the old crone, that underneath her robes was a hunchback, that beneath her hood was a toothless grin and leathered skin. The witch lit a solitary candle and placed it on the table, providing barely enough light for me see that the rumors about her appearance were indeed true. As she sat across from me, I could see that she was a matron of at least sixty years, dark haired, with clear blue eyes and many missing teeth.

"Blade," she addressed me with such familiarity, even though she should not have known my name in the first place. "Blade," she spoke my name again as if savoring it, tasting it, "You have come to know of your future."

I answered hesitantly, "Yes."

She gave a single, somber nod. From beneath her robes, she produced a grimy dagger and then gestured for me to give her my hand. I felt exhilaration mixed with fear, still I set right hand upon the tabletop.

"No, the left one; it is closer to your heart."

She took my left hand and held it in her own for a while, softly praying in a language I could slightly recall from back east. I noticed how frighteningly cold her touch was, despite the summer heat outside. After her prayers, her gaze fixed on my palm for some time.

Suddenly, she drug the dagger across my palm, leaving a mark that stung and made me winch, but was not very deep. Still, blood pooled and spread out across the lines in my palm. The sight of the crimson droplets falling upon the table filled me with uneasiness; I wanted to shut my eyes, to block out images from my past life, yet I could not tear my mind or gaze from the blood.

The magei used her fingers to spread the blood around my open hand and then she regard it calmly, "With ambitious dreams and twisted minds, I see a heart forever pierced by two swords."

Abruptly, I straightened and tried to pull my bleeding palm away, "Excuse me?"

Still grasping hard onto my hard, she pulled me in closer to her and stared directly into my eyes with her frightening gaze, "In your hands lies the fates of many men and many nations. Inside you I see both light and darkness, which you use to change the course of future events is up to you. I cannot tell you your future, for you have not written it yet."

As she spoke, I was seized by terrifying visions; I sat alone in the snow as the sun turned it's back upon the world of man and the skies turned to darkness. I saw demons wielding swords of ice, dragons of living frost dancing in the blackness, the bark of weirwood trees dripping blood red sap into the snow before withering away, ships as far as the Summer Isles forever trapped while the sea begun to freeze beneath them. In my heart, I felt the famine, the terror, the fury, the wickedness, the punishment.

In an instant I longed for the dagger across the table. I did not want whatever power I might have. My entire life, I had feared what I might do with it. In protest I hissed, "I will not choose the dark or the light." I withdrew my bleeding palm from the magei and reached for the knife, intent on cutting my own throat.

Before I could reach the blade, the magei grasped it from the table. When she spoke, her voice held an edge of hardness. "Then you condemn us all to winter's darkness."

We stared at each other in quietness for several moments. When I was able to bring myself back to reality, I attempted to think rationally and disregarded all the terrifying events that had just occurred. Instead, I clung to my naive little dreams about love and wealth and elegant balls. "But what of my future at Court? What position will I hold? Will I be happy?"

Her reply was swift and cold, completely free of any emotion. "You will never be happy."

My lip began to tremble and I felt as if tears might spring from my eyes. "What of Joffrey? Will I never know what it is to be loved? What of my heart being pierced by two swords? What does it all mean?"

"I fear you will know of love with the most powerful man in these western lands," She took a long pause before speaking again. "And you will suffer for it."

My mind raced with questions. I would love, but I would never be happy, with the most powerful man in Westeros? If it was Joffrey, would she not had named him? Who then? The realm has no other more powerful than the king, who held sway over all countless, divided factions.

"The man you speak of, is he not Joffrey?" I asked, but recieved no reply, so I pressed further. "Is there no way I can escape this fate?"

"No to both," The magei replied with a vehemence. "Take great care, Blade, or your heart will destroy this world."

I stumbled back to the Street of Silk with my companions. The midday sun still beamed down upon us and I wiped the sweat from my brow with my trembling hand, fear from the encounter coursing through my veins. Dancy inquired about my visit and continued to pry even though I gave her no response. I could not speak for I was frozen, shocked into silence. I just wanted to be somewhere dark and safe - away from people, away from my erratically beating heart.


End file.
